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osarina · 5 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.”

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.

But is this really any better?

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are.

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick.

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.

“May I have this dance?”

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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hcsiqs · 2 months

Text

| i love you, im sorry

• pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

• summary: inspired by gracie abram’s i love you im sorry

• warnings: angst ?? mean!paige kinda…

I like to slam doors closed

Trust me, I know it's always about me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Paige, please,” you begged as tears fell from your eyes and you tried to get the blonde girl to look at you, but she refused. “Don’t just push me away!”

“Go y/n! I don’t need you anymore, ok?” she replied, hurt evident in her voice. She jerked her arm away from you.

She had just torn her ACL and wanted nothing to do with anyone, especially you. It seemed like everything you had been doing for the past few weeks set her off. She hated the way you tried to help her and the fact that it seemed you pitted her, even though you weren’t trying to. You just wanted to help her, that’s all you ever want to do.

“I’m just trying to be there for you,” your voice dropped into a softer voice as mascara stained your cheeks.

“Well I don’t need you to be here for me or whatever the fuck,” she ran her hands down her face.

“I wanna help because I love you P,” you tried reminding her that all of this came from your love for her, but she didn’t wanna hear it.

“I don’t love you anymore,” her voice broke as she her piercing blue eyes made contact with your own and you could see that she meant every word.

You bit your lip trying to hold back your sniffles as your lips curved into a frown without you even trying. Your arms crossed over your body as you let out a hushed, “Ok,” before packing all your things from her room into a bag and leaving without saying another word. That was the last time you talked to Paige junior year.

Two summers from now

We'll have been talking, but not all

that often, we're cool now

Paige had decided to stay an extra year at UConn due to her injury that she suffered from a few years prior. And you just so happened to also be staying at UConn to get your graduates degree.

Obviously going to the same school you two had bumped into each other and exchanged a few words, but nothing much, both always seeming to be in a rush to avoid the awkwardness.

You had decided on taking a few summer classes and as you were walking with your head down you found yourself run into a taller figure. When you stepped back you immediately recognized who it was.

“Paige,” you said with a tight lipped smile.

“Y/N,” she replied with the same smile before shooing her teammates off. “How’ve you been?” she asked awkwardly pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good,” you nodded, “Staying busy, you?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” she replied nodding her head while shoving her hands into her pockets. “You—uh—you look good,” her eyes scanned you up and down, something you had gotten used to when you were together.

“Thanks. You too,” you were trying to keep the interaction short and sweet, not wanting to get into anything. “I gotta go, but see you around?”

“For sure,” she nodded before you walked off and tried erasing the entire interaction from your brain.

It wasn’t like you had talked at all in the past two years. You had your civil interactions here and there but never had them for too long. And you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted it to just stay cool between the two of you. Not wanting to bring up y’all’s past.

You were the best but you were the worst

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first

You had just finished your fall semester finals, so you and your friends decided to celebrate and get rid of all the stress by going to Ted’s and getting drunk.

It just so happened to be the same night that the UConn women’s basketball team had won a hard game against one of the best schools, and they had all decided to out to celebrate.

And that’s how you found yourself staring down a certain blonde at the bar who was obviously flirting with another girl. You kept telling yourself that it shouldn’t bother you because you had broken up almost two years ago now, but you could shake the “I loved her first” from your brain as you watched the two.

So, you took another shot to try and distract yourself. The burning sensation trickled down your throat before walking past Paige, ‘accidentally’ hitting her arm.

And once you found yourself in the comfortable muffled silence of the bathroom the door swung open to reveal the tall blonde basketball player. “What’s your problem? You’ve been staring at me all fuckin night long.”

“Have not,” you slurred, rolling your eyes and turning away from her to look in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had taken and your mascara was messy under your eyes from continually rubbing them.

Paige moved closer to you, but not too close, almost scared that if she did you would run away and she would lose her chance. “Yeah. You have.”

“No,” you shook your head, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

“Dude, just fucking talk to me!”

“No! You don’t get to act like what happened is my fucking fault,” you raised your voice turning to the side to actually look at her up close. “You pushed me away, not the other way around.”

“I know and I regret it everyday. But every time I try to talk to you, you rush off!” Paige started moving her hands to represent her frustration with the situation.

“Why would I wanna talk to someone who is just going around flirting with random girls,” you snapped back before even realizing what you were saying. But as soon as the words left your mouth you immediately slammed your lips shut, afraid of what might come from them if you didn’t.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, okay?” your hands found their way into your hair, brushing it back with your fingers.

A moment of silence fell between the both of you. Neither really knowing what to say in the moment.

“Forget what I said,” you shook your head, wanting to disappear from the entire moment.

“I miss you,” she confessed as you tried pushing past her to get out of the small room.

You felt as if your heart was gonna beat out of your chest at those words. The words you had been wanting to hear since your fight two years ago. The words you had fought to hear that same night but never did.

“I miss you too, P,” your drunken self admitted. Your glossy eyes meeting hers. It seemed like your heart had stopped in that moment and nothing existed but the two of you.

I love you, I'm sorry

allie’s corner

this is lowkey poop im sorry

#paige bueckers #wnba #uconn wbb #wnba basketball #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn wcbb #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers angst #angst #fanfic #fan fiction

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mirohlayo · 26 days

Text

IF IT'S A GAME, THEN

I'LL BE THE WINNER

( You're not the type to give up easily, and even less so for Max who absolutely doesn't want to lose the game. )

warning : mention of jealousy, angst but not angst, sad max :(, fluffff

word count : 2.5k

You sigh, annoyed. "What are you talking about? This is a bad idea, Max." The dutch shakes his head, absolutely disagreeing with you. “Look.” He jumps to sit on the pale green sofa, his left arm resting on the edge of the sofa, facing you. "We have nothing to lose. It's a good idea for a game, and I know that deep down you think the same as me." He waves his hands to accompany his words, determined to change your mind.

You run your hands over your face, completely tired. This discussion has been going on for 20 minutes now, and you don't know where it's going. Fatigue is growing within you and his explanations seem more and more repetitive to you, so there remains one last choice. "Okay okay, I accept. We're going to play this ridiculous game." You sigh heavily as your best friend almost jumps for joy.

It's ridiculous indeed. This game, or rather this stupid bet that you accepted. "I'll remind you of the rules one last time. The first person to date someone wins. What wins? The title of best seducer." You nod, rolling your eyes, to make him understand that he doesn't need to repeat himself and that you understand the rules of his so called very fun game very well.

You don't even know where it came from. Well, yes. It just turns out that both of your love lives are... well, not great. Each of your previous dates were all horrible, and the only time you were in a relationship, your boyfriend dumped you after 2 months because he had found something better. It's almost ironic because it's so pitiful. In conclusion, by forgetting certain details, we can say that your love life is a phenomenal disaster. And it was hard to do worse than you.

Except for Max. Maybe after all he was the king of fails. Many relationships of just a few weeks fell through because these girls only wanted attention, money and notoriety. Sometimes he would end up kissing a random girl when he was partying, a girl whose name he didn't even remember. But he always ended up going home alone, and regretting this kiss which meant nothing.

After these failures which weighed down your morale, you were always there for each other to reconcile. When you came to Max in tears, explaining to him how your ex left you for another girl who he thought was a thousand times better, he immediately took you in his arms. He comforted you all evening, wiping your tears while spoiling you with your favorite meals in front of your favorite movie. He had turned off his phone, all his attention was focused on you. Because there was no way he was going to leave her childhood best friend alone and sad because of some poor guy.

And when Max finally explained to you why all his short relationships had fallen through, you reassured him that not all of these girls deserved it. You had cuddled him under the thick blankets, lightly scratching his scalp, and spent the evening reminding him how strong and incredible he is, and that there was no better man than him on this planet.

Because there was no way you were going to leave your childhood best friend alone and sad because of poor profiteers.

But it was also in these moments that your feelings surfaced the most, and it was difficult to hide them. In the end, all these dates and fake relationships were just a distraction, some kind of fake companionship and joy to try to forget the real feelings you have. Your disastrous love affairs weren't disastrous by chance, they were only disastrous to unite the only two people who were finally made for each other.

And this game risks changing everything.

Max knew very well what he was doing when he proposed this game to you a few days ago. He knew that, if you accepted, everything would be easier for him. He is determined and confident, and he wants to win this game at all costs. Anything goes, and it's a big help for him since he was able to gain enough confidence to be able to, well...

Win your heart, and therefore win the game.

On the contrary, for your part, you want to continue to forget your feelings for Max. It's inconceivable to you that he could, even with a little luck, have romantic feelings for you. He is a great driver, rich, handsome and young who enjoys his life. Obviously a lot of girls including models beg him for even one chance. Max can't date someone as ordinary as you.

And yet, if only you knew...

It's almost 7 p.m. Max rushes to finish cooking your favorite dish, two plates already ready to be served. You've already been in the bathroom for a good hour now, finishing getting ready for your date tonight. You had no time to waste and you rushed to the first man who seemed rather nice and pleasant to you. You finish the last touches of your makeup with a brush, and the bathroom door suddenly opens.

Max smiles to himself as he hears the door click, and when he looks up, he wonders if he's still breathing. Before him is - without any, but no doubt - the most beautiful woman, the most resplendent girl in the world. Your face is divine, the burgundy dress you are wearing accentuates your magnificent body and your hair is harmoniously highlighted with the rest of your makeup. You are just... breathtaking.

He blinks a few times, completely unsure how to function for a moment. Your laugh brings him out of his trance and he ends up awkwardly lining up a few words. "You're just... well... breathtaking. I-I mean, really really gorgeous." You laugh shyly, lowering your head, a little embarrassed by his compliments. You can feel his gaze piercing you all over and for a moment, you feel like you're naked in front of him. Even so, he manages to make you feel so many things.

“What’s got you so dressed up like that, gorgeous?” He smiled kindly at you before lowering his head to finish mixing the sauce in the pan. His t-shirt reveals his muscular and veiny arms, his hands and his pale knuckles as he holds the pan firmly in place. His hair, still a little damp after his shower, falls lightly on his forehead, and his face displays a concentrated but calm expression. It was just easy to get lost in the beauty of this man.

“Mhh, did you hear me princess?” When you meet his gaze, he looks at you amused, a smirk evident at the corner of his lips. You shake your head, embarrassed to have looked at him like that, and fortunately he didn't comment on it. "Don't you remember? I have a date tonight" You rush to put on your heels, leaning on the white wall next to you. "Oh, you're right. I was cooking your favorite dish so we could eat together but I forgot you were going out tonight."

In fact, he absolutely hadn't forgotten the fact that you had a date tonight. He just purposely came up with this little plan, which is part of your game, to spend more time with you and show you that only he is perfect for you, and that at least he knows how to cook your favorite dish. As he examines your face, not knowing what sort of emotions are hidden there, he hopes deep down that hopefully you'll give in to your date and spend the evening with him instead.

But alas, the sad look you give him immediately makes him understand that you won't be keeping him company this evening. “Sorry Max. I appreciate the effort you put in and you know I love you, but I have no intention of losing this damn game” You end up smiling evilly before running out the door , already a little late for your date. The pilot didn't even have time to properly say goodbye to you, he sighed sadly.

But you were right on one hand. After all, it was Max who started this bet and there had to be a winner. Except for him, he didn't need to go on dates to find a girlfriend. He's already known her since childhood, and he's always wanted this girl, even after so many years. He grabs his plate with difficulty and settles down on the couch, where you could spend hours and hours watching anything and everything on the TV. He feels a little abandoned tonight, it's true.

The idea of imagining yourself chatting and laughing with a man other than him never resonates with him again, but tonight it's different. His sadness is stronger, and he seems on the verge of crying and breaking down. He knows he has to try harder and put more heart into throwing hints at you and making you understand that he wants to play this game with you, but you consider him so much a friend that you take all his actions friendly. And not romantically.

Max didn't even bother waiting for you to come home that evening, too disappointed and saddened. His heart tightened in his chest and he preferred to fall asleep earlier than usual to forget his heartache. You came home around 11 p.m., a little disappointed. You expected to see your best friend, but he wasn't there. Which saddened you even more. Your date wasn't that great, but he still insisted on making it up to you and giving you another chance. And you obviously accepted the offer.

So, in the following weeks, everything seemed bland and gloomy. It was like a cycle, an infernal loop. A destructive and unpleasant routine had set in and it weighed on both of you, but especially Max. He spent his days thinking, finding ideas for activities to spend time with you and make you fall under his spell. To prevent you from seeing this famous date again. But every time, you told him that you were going out with him since he had invited you somewhere again.

You always apologized, but sometimes you still took the trouble to spend a little time with him, before finally joining your so called potential new lover. And as the weeks passed, your friendship seemed to fade away. You were drifting away little by little, almost as if it was normal or inevitable. Max, who launched this game hoping to win your heart, ended up letting himself be fooled by his own game.

But we already know Max, right? He was so fed up, but so fed up with this situation. He suffered silently, he struggled to smile and he had lost every ounce of joy. He was never affected like that and let's not forget to mention his jealousy that burned brightly every time you talked about your date. He couldn't take it anymore, he absolutely couldn't take all this anymore. He was becoming the loser of his own game, and Max is not like that at all.

He was born to win everything, emerge victorious and undefeated. He has no desire to give up this stupid game and proclaim himself the loser. No, he will be the winner in the end, no matter what.

Max stares at you, leaning back on his couch, while you sit across from him, smiling in front of your phone. He rolls his eyes for a long time, already knowing that you are talking with this man whose eyes he dreams of tearing out. You end up suddenly standing up, running your hand over your wrinkled tee shirr. "I think I'll start getting ready to go out-" "No."

Max was quick to cut you. His tone was firm and almost aggressive. He also gets up to stand at your height, greatly surpassing you. You have to lift your head to look at him, and under this pressure you begin to weaken. It would be so easy to let go and just kiss him. There is your date, yes. But that never meant that you actually forgot about Max. No, on the contrary, it was getting worse and worse.

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/n.” You frown, a little irritated by his tone and the way he speaks to you. "I'm not here to listen to your orders Max. I have another date, and I'll go whether you want me to or-" "Do you really love him?" He cuts you off again, moving a little closer to you, arms crossed. He carries this look so arrogant and menacing, and his gaze is so piercing that you feel like he can read every feeling in you.

He stares at you intensely, never letting go of your gaze. You try as best you can to hold his gaze, but after his question, you flinch. You part your mouth slightly, as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Your eyes also betray you, and your whole body feels paralyzed. You question yourself. Do you really love this man? Behind your impassive heart, you already know the answer.

There has never been any man other than Max.

Your lack of response is now too suspicious for the driver, who wanted to continue again but you cut him off. “Love is still a big word but yes, I really like him.” Your voice trembles slightly, as if you ultimately don't mean any of the words you say. "Don't lie to me Y/n. It was just a game basically." Max knows you by heart, even with his eyes closed. He knows perfectly well when you're lying, and it turns out he noticed.

You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. “A game that perhaps allowed me to find a boyfriend.” You are hesitant with your words, not so sure of yourself. You fidget on the spot, rocking one foot over the other. This sentence seems to have really annoyed Max, who rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched. “Who told you we couldn't play this game with each other, Y/n?.” He looks at you like he's about to do something serious and unexpected.

Never have your faces been so close, only a few centimeters away. Your gaze falls unintentionally on his lips, then, as if it were forbidden, you come back to your senses and lock your eyes into his. But Max noticed, and he knows he's already won. "If it's a game, then I'll be the winner." He whispers softly, faintly. Until your lips touch. He kisses you like no one has kissed you before. It is a passionate, loving and exquisite kiss. Simply lovely.

His lips are soft against yours, but he moves them ardently, almost wildly but always in sensual desire. He releases all his emotions and all his frustration in this divine kiss, which he absolutely does not want to stop. Reluctantly, you step back slightly, smiling shyly. "Okay, I have to admit. You really are the winner." He chuckled softly, stealing another quick kiss from you. "Of course. You know I don't like losing, especially when it comes to you."

You rolled your eyes amusedly, pressing your lips to his again. This ridiculous game wasn't so ridiculous after all, even if you didn't come out a winner. Because after all, who can come out on top in a game when Max is the opponent?

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine

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amethystasra · 10 months

Text

14DWY is an 18+ game, minors DNI !

Ren/ AFAB Reader

2.4k words

Ren belongs to @14dayswithyou 🌟

You spent the day with Leon and Ren gets jealous. Based off a post that said Ren would only take his own pleasure into account if you manage to make him jealous enough, though this ended up being a lot softer than intended. Written with [REDACTED] in mind.

jealousy, reverse comfort and all that stuff:)

Five hours. Five hours, fifty-two minutes and thirteen seconds. That's how long you've been gone today. Ren looked at the time on his laptop, as he counted the seconds you were away. A painful emptiness in his heart, as he stared at the pictures of you and him that hung on your shared walls. He missed you so much. Even a minute without you is enough to turn him into a sobbing mess.

He heard your laugh coming from his laptop -That he had been using to listen in on your conversations through your phone- followed up by someone else's that made his fists curl up in anger. Leon.

"I haven't seen Leon in weeks Ren. We're just catching up. It'll only be for a little while; I'll be right back." You had told him, after he had desperately tried to keep you home using numerous excuses as to why you shouldn't go.

Ren's possessive tendencies are already intense enough as it is, but oh your childhood friend, the piece of shit who had ruined his proposal to you all those years ago, made him feel a type of jealousy like no other. His jaw clenched as he forced out a –somewhat unsettling- smile. “Sorry angel. I just worry about you.” He pulled you closer to him, placing a kiss atop your forehead. “Call me if you need anything, alright?” He had no choice but to let you go, not wanting to risk a fight, and end up with you potentially viewing him in a bad light.

Ren felt his stomach churning, a mixture of jealousy and anger, hearing the two of you talk and laugh, while you ignored him. You had responded to the first couple of his texts, picked up the first few times he called, until you decided to put your phone on do not disturb.

"Is everything alright between you and that lanky fella, sunfish?" Leon’s voice was laced with concern. "You know all I want is for you to be happy, and I'll support you no matter what,” He paused for a second. “But, if I'm being honest, something about him just feels off. He’s called you, like what? Five times already?"

Ren felt his blood boil, his brain already coming up with ways to remove this pest that keeps on trying to separate him from his angel.

You were quick to dismiss Leon’s concerns. "He's just a bit clingy, that's all. It's actually kind of sweet. He just worries a lot." Ren's anger melted away, as you came to his defense, replaced by the utter love and devotion he feels for you. A literal angel.

Six hours and 20 minutes had passed when you finally returned home. Ren already stood waiting right in front of the door. Before you could even step inside you felt a pair of arms wrap around you tightly. "Woah, hello to you too." You giggled; a bit startled. Ren didn't respond as he pulled you inside, rested his head on top of yours and inhaled your scent. You embraced him back and smiled. "I missed you too Ren."

Ren finally pulled back enough to look at you.

"Did you?" He sounded sad, but there was also a certain sharpness in his voice. "Then why were you ignoring me?" The jealousy in his voice now becoming clear.

You frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt rise in you. "I'm sorry Ren. It's just, you were calling almost every 10 minutes and Leon-" Ren cut you off before you could finish your sentence. "Do you like him more than me?" His voice was intense, not mad, you knew he could never get mad at you. He sounded possessive, and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve almost missed the desperation his words were laced with. "No- no of course not." Heat rose to your cheeks as butterflies began to form in your stomach.

He stared at you intensely, putting his hand on your face and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. You kiss him back immediately. His hands grabbing your waist firmly, fingers digging into the plush skin. After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back.

"Then show me that you belong to me. That you're mine." He breathes, eyes half lidded. You nodded your head with a desperate gleam in your eyes, letting him know how much you want this too. "I'm yours Ren." You tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Only yours."

Ren's lips were back on yours in an instant, moaning into your mouth as his hands roamed all over your body. One was placed behind your head, as the other found its way to your breast, massaging it. After a while his hands settled around your thighs, and suddenly you were being lifted up and carried to the bedroom.

Ren gently set you down on the bed before stepping back and looking down at you with complete infatuation. "Strip for me." He ordered.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of where to start. When you took a little too long for his liking, he quirked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to get started. You slowly pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare chest. Ren looked at you intently, watching you undress for him, his hand slowly rubbing the bulge in his pants. Once you were done with the rest of your clothes, you sat back down on your knees, waiting obediently for your next order.

Ren stepped closer to the bed and put his hand on top of your hair and started petting it softly. "So obedient f'me. Such a good girl. Now open up." He put his free hand on your chin, and gently pried open your lips with his finger before shoving it in.

"Ah- fuck." Ren moaned as you immediately started sucking. He took a few seconds to relish in the way you seemed so eager to obey his every whim, before pulling his hand back and ordering you to lay down on the bed. He slowly started making his way over to the bedside table, never taking his eyes off you. He opened the drawer, pulling out a rope. "Hands above your head. Wrists together."

All you could do was silently obey as you felt your arousal dripping down your thighs. Ren bound your wrists to the headboard and stepped back for a second, admiring his handiwork.

"Mine." He whispered to himself quietly. A shameful thought crossed his mind, at the sight of you tied up beneath him. What if he kept you here permanently? tied up like this, in his bed. You sure seem to be enjoying yourself. Maybe you'd like this too.

Ren's heart raced at the thought of having you all to himself. Being the only one who gets to see you like this, the only one who gets to speak to you, the only one who gets to touch you, the only one who gets to receive your attention forever and ever and ever-

"Ren?" The sound of your voice softly calling out his name made him snap back to reality.

No. He’d never do that -except as a last resort of course, but he wouldn't let it come to that- he wants to share every single second of his life with you. He wants to watch the stars reflect in your eyes every night, he wants to take you on expensive dinners and shopping trips, give you everything you ask for, visit new places together, and make every single dream of yours come true. Because just as much as you were his, he was also yours. And if others tried to get in the way of that, he would simply have to get rid of them. It's going to be just the two of you for eternity, no matter what. He will make sure of that.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Patience, angel.”

He undressed himself, stroking his cock a few times before sitting down on the bed next to you. He softly cupped your face in the palms of his hands and kissed you. His hands slowly made their way down your body, making sure to not leave a single inch untouched. His hands came to an eventual halt a few inches from your soaking entrance. You bucked your hips against his fingers in an attempt for him to continue. He chuckled at your desperation, before sliding two fingers inside of you.

"God, you're soaked for me already. I don't even think you need any prep." He pumped his fingers in and out a few times before retracting them completely, and slowly licking them clean with a moan. He straddled your hips placing his cock at your entrance and gripping your waist firmly.

"Tell me how badly y'want it, angel. Tell me how badly you want me." The words escape your mouth before you can even think about it. "Please Ren. I need you." A sly smirk appeared on his face. "Please what? What do you need? Use your words baby."

"I need you to fuck me Ren plea-" before you could even finish your sentence Ren was already thrusting himself inside you, groaning loudly at the way your soft walls hugged his member. He waited a few seconds for you to adjust and started moving –at a pace a bit rougher than his usual- after you gave a confirming nod.

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips, as Ren continues fucking into you roughly like his life depends on it. He whimpers every time your walls clench around his cock.

Ren shamelessly moans out your name, while moving one hand to cup your face, and the other towards your clit, using his skilled fingers to rub it in circles. He's being so rough, yet so gentle at the same time.

"Keep making those pretty sounds for me f'me baby. Fuck you feel so good." He moans into the crook of your neck before gently biting into the skin there, leaving marks all over you.

He continues thrusting into you, searching your eyes after he decides he's left enough marks on your throat. His eyes glisten with something so utterly intense and passionate it leaves you speechless.

You close your eyes for a while, getting lost in way his cock slams in and out of you, and the way his slender fingers work on your clit, until you hear Ren calling out your name again. "Look at me baby, you're close, aren't you?" You try to answer him, but all you can manage is a nod and more jumbled moans. "Then cum for me angel."

The knot in your stomach tightens, and before you can even think about it you can feel yourself falling over the edge.

He works you through your orgasm, making sure you get to ride it out entirely. Once you start to shake from overstimulation, his hands move back down to grab your hips again on the same spot where marks are already beginning to show from his previous hold and

Ren's movements become frantic. "That's it baby, fuck." Ren lets out a mixture of whimpers and mumbled "I love You's" as he reaches his own peak and fills you up.

Ren pants into the crook of your neck while you both come down from your high. He doesn't back up. He clings to you, as if he fears you might disappear the moment he lets go, pushing his face a little further into your hair, his fingers tightening around your waist. After a few seconds, he takes a moment to quickly undo the bindings around your wrists. He massages the area that was bound, placing the softest kisses onto it before settling his head back in its prior spot.

Everything seemed peaceful, but you could tell something was off. He was somehow holding you even tighter than usual and the soft exhales of breath gliding down the side of your neck held something unspoken.

You reach up, one hand softly stroking through his hair, as you put your other on his face in an attempt to get him to look up to you. His face remained buried deep into the crook of your neck, a few quick sobs escaping his lips. You kiss him temple, waiting a few moments, knowing he usually doesn't like to show this more emotional side of himself, let alone talk about it. "Ren, what's wrong?" You ask him in the softest, most angelic voice.

He tries to choke back a response but ends up a stuttering mess. You place both your hands on his face now, making him look up at you with teary eyes. "It's okay, I'm here Ren, can you take some deep breaths for me?"

Ren does as he's asked, and eventually his breathing steadies. You wipe a few stray tears that still lingered on his rosy cheeks. "What's wrong?" You whisper again, so quiet he almost missed it.

"I- I just-" he begins slowly. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, but a quick encouraging nod of your head makes him continue. "When you're not here with me, when you're with someone else, it feels as if all the air is ripped out of my lungs. It's like the moon and all the stars have disappeared from the sky and I'm left in complete darkness. I-” He looks up at you. “I just need you angel. I love you so much.”

Your eyes start to tear up at his words, you pull his face to yours and kiss him. “I love you too Ren, more than anything. Please don’t ever doubt that.” You wipe away the tears that fall from his eyes. “I’m not going to just disappear if I'm away for a few yours. I'll always come home to you. Please just let me know whenever you feel like this, okay?” Ren nods and kisses you again, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his chest.

There are some more kisses and quiet words exchanged between the two of you before you both drift to sleep, dangled in each other's arms.

#14 days with you #14 days with you redacted #14dwy #14 days with you ren #ren x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere visual novel #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere drabble

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 3 months

Text

Moi Devochki: Chapter 9

Authors note: We're almost at the end now. You guys ready??

Word count: 3826

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist

When Natasha enters the kitchen for her early morning cup of coffee a week later she is immediately aware that something is going on. The hushed whispers she’d heard while walking in die down to nothing and she can feel multiple sets of eyes on her.

“Somebody want to tell me something?” she asks, practically daring them to be brave

Of course Clint is the one to speak up, “The team of agents Fury sent to escort Steve and Sharon to the Raft for their crimes against Y/n, they uh, they never made it. And Fury has to locate them.”

Tony flinches as she harshly sets down her coffee cup, he's sure that either the counter or the mug are now cracked and he braces himself in case she just decides to fling the mug at one of their heads

“The fuck do you mean they never made it?! Those two assholes were out cold when we left and should have still been out cold minutes later when the team arrived!”

Tony nods, “They probably were still unconscious, but at some point before they got to the prison they woke up and made sure they could not be taken in”

“Why did it take so long for Fury to tell us this?” she growls, “With them still out there Y/n needed extra protection this whole time”

“Protection you were already giving her, Nat.” Bucky states, “You haven’t left her side since she's gotten back. And now when you do leave her and Wanda, you leave them with Yelena. She's safe here now.”

“You can’t know that” she argues

“We can” Tony assures her, “Not only did I improve our security after Y/n was taken, Fury told us that he added a security team to patrol the perimeter when Cap never arrived at the Raft.”

“Plus, I’m fairly certain Steve would have to be suicidal to attempt getting her hands on your Omega again Nat. I think he knows now that you’d kill him” Clint adds

She grunts, clearly not satisfied, “I’m not making the mistake of underestimating him again. I will not be at ease until he is found. And I want him found, now.”

Her green eyes practically piece into Tony and he stubbles to get up without spilling his coffee, “I’ll get right on it. I’ll bring the kid in too since he was helpful last time”

Her gaze moves to Bucky next, “You're his oldest friend, go help Tony. Give him anything that might be useful. Old addresses, old hangouts, anything. I don’t care if your knowledge is from the 40’s, he's running like a scared rabbit right now and scared people fall back to what they are familiar with.”

“Right, I’ll give Stark everything I know” he assures, quickly following after the other man

“So” Clint drawls out, stuffing a croissant into his mouth, “What am I doing then?”

Her eyebrows furrow at her best friend's eating habits and she wordlessly passes him a napkin, “I can’t risk leaving Y/n or Wanda alone here, even if Yelena stays with them. I just…I can’t. ”

He nods in understanding, “Got it, I’m your eyes in the city to check the locations on Tonys list. I’ll finish up this cup of coffee, grab my gear, inform Stark and head out. I’ll keep my coms open for you to check in.

“Thank you Clint”

He waves her off, “You’d do the same for me. Besides, what are friends for, right?”

“Right” she agrees, smiling fondly as she recalls the first time he’d said that to her all those years ago after he brought her to SHIELD

Knowing where her mind went, he smiles too before downing his coffee, “Alright, I’m gonna head out.”

“Thank you, check in in 15 minutes”

He nods before leaving and she takes that as her queue to go find her sister and mates. She walks down the various hallways until she comes to her sister's room. She knocks twice to announce her presence before opening the door. She finds you on her sister's couch in front of the TV and Wanda curled up with a book on the windowsill while Yelena works on some paperwork at her desk. She immediately looks up to greet her older sister.

“Sestra(sister), why do you look so grumpy?” Yelena asks, easily reading her sisters mood

Hearing the blonde's concern, Wanda immediately looks to your mate, “Is everything ok, Alpha?”

The redheads gaze falls to you and her expression turns to one of something akin to guilt or remorse, “I was just informed that Steve and Sharon escaped detainment on the way to the Raft”

Your stomach drops as Wanda's anger skyrockets, “Why are we only being told now!? That was over a week ago?!”

“Fury likely wanted time to try and fix his agents screw up himself before admitting the mistake to us”

“That's unacceptable!” she huffs, “Y/n is our mate, and they’re a threat to her! We should have been told the second it happened!”

“You’re right” Nat admits, caressing the Omegas cheek in order to help calm her, “I’m angry about it too, but right now our focus needs to be Y/n, not Fury”

The brunette looks over at you, and her heart sinks. You look a million miles away from the conversation they're having, and the anxiety you're feeling is more than apparent based on the look on your face and the scent in the air

“Oh detka(baby)” she coos, rushing to your side, “It’s ok my love, Tasha and I are right here. Yelena too, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Natasha joins the two of you on the small sofa and lets her calming scent wrap around you, “I’ll do everything to keep you safe, I promise”

“I know you will, Alpha. I just don’t like the idea of him being out there still.” you admit, grabbing a hold of her hand, “I’m trying to heal, and I want to focus on our future together. I can’t do that knowing he's out there still. Until he's caught he's a looming threat. Not just to me either, but to Wanda, you and our future family too”

“I know medovyy(honey). That's why the team is working on finding him.” she tells you, running her thumb across your knuckles, “Tony, Bucky and Peter are in the lab trying to find places he might go, and Clint is out in the city ready to check each to confirm if Steves there.”

“If they find him, how do we make sure he and Sharon just don't escape again?”

“When they find him” She smiles at you to help ease your worries, “Clint will keep his eyes on him and follow him anywhere he may go until I can get there and personally haul his ass to the Raft. Fury and his men let us down, let you down. But I won’t. I’m going to keep you safe, my Omega”

“I trust you Tasha, I know you’ll keep your word. Just please be careful, Wanda and I can’t lose you”

“You won’t lose me, moi devochki(my girls)” she says, reaching out her other hand to grab ahold of Wandas, “If he fights back, I’ll kick his ass. And if he threatens me, Clint will end him”

As if speaking of the archer summoned him, Nats phone screen lights up with his goofy face as it begins to ring. She quickly answers it, “Hey”

“Hey Nat, I’m in the city. Tonys getting ready to send me the first few locations so if you wanna keep up with everything, now's a good time to put in your coms”

Though he can’t see it, she nods and she shuffles over to grab her sister's coms of the confused blondes desk, “Alright, I got it. I’ll tune in now. Thanks Clint”

She hangs up and begins to ready the coms, which earns a grunt from Yelena, “Those are mine, you know”

“Shush.” the older Russian scolds, “I’ll return them when I’m done. I thought we had passed the learn to share phase?”

Yelena scrunches her nose at her sister, but decides now isn’t the time to argue that she doesn’t mind sharing, she just doesn’t like people touching what's hers ....ok, so maybe she didn’t like sharing.

“Romanoff, Barton. You guys there?”

“I’m here Stark. Nat?”

“Reading you both, loud and clear” she replies as she paces in front of you and Wanda, “Fill me in”

“I’ve just sent Clint a list of places to check out. Some places are linked to Sharon, and one Bucky mentioned used to be a place of interest.”

Clint cuts in, “I’m checking out her storage unit in the Upper East side first. I doubt they are holding out there, but it could have some clues to there current whereabouts”

“Yeah, ok. Sounds good. Just be cautious. Steves a soldier, and Sharons a skilled agent. I wouldn’t put it past them to set up a trap”

“Noted” Clint replies before grunting, “Okay, I’m on the roof, just gotta find a way inside.”

A few minutes pass by with the only sounds being computer keys clicking from Tonys end and shuffling around from Clint's end. Finally she can hear the sounds of him trying to pick a lock

“You find it?”

“Yeah, and they weren’t kidding when they called this a mini storage place. The units gotta be the size of a utility closet at the tower.” he tells them as he works on the lock, “It doesn’t appear to have been tampered with in any way, and with how public this place is due to space I’m not sure either of them would risk harming an innocent civilian”

“Y/n was innocent, that didn’t stop them.” she grumbles, shooting you a look filled with love and protectiveness. It coupled with the warm embrace Wanda currently has you wrapped up in has your heart filling with happiness as you feel the love of your mates

“Well, yes. But in his warped mind, he didn’t see it that way. You were taking what was his” Tony explains, having to take a gulp of coffee afterwards to get rid of the gross taste the statement left behind, “But he has no reason, real or imaginary, to hurt a bystander”

“Alright, I’m in” Clint says, thankfully letting Tony off the hook, “Wow”

“What did you find?” Your Alpha asks

“Sharon was definitely breaking several protocols, and stealing from SHIELD” he tells her looking at the various bins of tech parts and smaller devices, he pulls out a rack of drawers, “Oh no”

“What is it?” “What did you find?” the other two ask at the same time

“She has veils, like the one Nat used to take down Peirce. She's gotta have like three here, but it looks like there were slots for two more of them. Empty now though.”

Tony lets out a sigh, “Well, finding them with different faces might be a tad more difficult”

“But we'll do it" Natasha asserts, "Keep looking around Clint, see what else you can find.”

The archer continues to look around. He finds some jammers, indicating she probably had those on her as well to use if they realize their trail has been picked up on. The next thing he finds is a small notepad. He picks it up and flips through it, sighing when he realizes it's empty but then he notices the indents and ripped edges before the current page. Whatever was written on the torn off page has been pressed into the blank one beneath it.

“Might have something here, I just need to find a pencil”

Thankfully there was one in the drawer, and he quickly rubs it across the page to reveal the message, Penthouse suite.

“Well don't leave us in suspense hotshot, whatcha got?” Tony asks, the man had little patience

“It says 'penthouse suite'. My guess is wherever they're staying, that's the room they're in.”

“Great. Now we just need to find where that is” Nat states, not disappointed with the things Clints found but still not entirely satisfied, “What's your next stop?”

Clint pulls out his list again, “Uhh, William Poll. It's an old sandwich shop he and Bucky apparently used to frequent when in the area. It's quite a few blocks from here. I'll check back in once I'm there.”

Nat sighs as the minutes tick by but she's brought out of her anxiety when she hears a small bell ring, the telltale sign of a shop door opening

“All right, I'm here. Gonna ask the owners if he's had any new or unusual customers lately.” There's a brief pause while he presumably does just that before he's speaking again, “There's only been three new customers in the past week. Ones an average tourist-”

“But the other two?” Tony interrupts, again letting his lack of patience show

“I was getting there Stark, if you could just hold your tongue and keep your tin panties on-”

“Clint”

“Right, sorry Nat.” He sighs, “As I was saying, the other two people were a couple. Guy behind the counter said the man, the Alpha, was incredibly buff. While the woman, the Beta, seemed to be on high alert. She even chastised her Alpha for dropping their hotel room key on the counter when he went to pay for their sandwiches.”

“Please, tell me he saw the hotel name” Nat practically begs, eager for this to be over with for her Omegas sake

Clint smiles to himself, “They're at the Carlyle. I can be there in five minutes, but with the way I’m dressed I wouldn’t make it past the front desk”

“I better wear something nice then” your Alpha says with a smug smile that manages to unfairly give you butterflies, “I’ll be there asap, keep your eyes open in the meantime”

“Will do”

She looks over to you, Wanda and Yelena who had at some point joined you both on her sofa, “Clint found them with Tony and Buckys help”

“And where is the coward?” Yelena asks, her hatred for the man clear in her tone

“The Carlyle”

You scoff, “He's not very subtle, is he?”

“We should be thankful of that” Wanda says, “Otherwise who knows how long it would have taken to catch him”

Your gaze casts downward, “Just because we tracked him down doesn’t mean he's caught”

Natasha walks over to you and gently grabs your chin, tilting your face to see hers, “I’m going to go make sure he's actually brought in this time, I promise”

“What if you get there and he's already gone?”

“Then I track down Clint, because he will have followed them.” she replies, “ And they'll wish they would have just been brought in by SHIELD by the time I’m done with him”

You smile at her, “Go get him Tasha”

She gives you and Wanda a quick goodbye kiss before she rushes off to her room. Her eyes scan her collection of dresses for the most appropriate one for this occasion, something fancy enough that she's allowed entrance but not overly fancy to draw too much attention. She settles on a stunning slim black dress paired with sleek black heels. She easily slips into the outfit and heads into her bathroom. She tosses her hair up into a quick but elegant bun and gets ready to apply a bit of makeup. She goes with a simple look of just mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick and adds the finishing touch by putting on a small delicate necklace that accentuates her neckline. Satisfied with her upscale appearance she makes a beeline for the garage level and then her corvette.

Her car tires squeal slightly as she pulls into the hotels parking garage and Clint crackles over the coms, “Take it easy there, Bond”

“Shut it” she huffs, slamming her door shut

As she walks across the street, smiling at the attendants by the doors, Clint sits on a nearby rooftop with the perfect view of Bemelmans Bar, “I got no answer when I asked to be put through to the penthouse suite, but I was able to bribe a bellboy. Apparently a Mr. and Mrs Cartier”

“Really? How original” the spy sarcastically mumbles

Clint chuckled, “Yeah, well. Now we know why the two of us and Maria always handled the undercover ops. Anyway the bellboy confirms the Cartier's match the description given to me at the sandwich shop.”

“Well, if they aren't in their room, that leaves the bar, the restaurant or the cafe.” Tony informs them, “That is, if they haven’t stepped out for the evening”

“They're still inside, and in Bemelmans Bar.” Clint informs, leaving the billionaire to wonder just what exactly this bellboy had been bribed with as the Carlyle is prized for its privacy and anonymity

Nat relaxes her shoulders, trying not to race inside to slam Steve's face against the nearest surface. Instead she calmly walks into the bar and glances around, “Ok, who am I looking for?”

“The brunette woman with the black haired guy at the end of the bar near the piano” Clint answers, “She's nursing a martini and he's having a beer.”

“I see them.”

Thankfully the couple doesn’t see her approaching, they're too engrossed in a hushed conversation with each other. So engrossed in fact, that they don’t even notice someone taking a seat next to Steve. Still she keeps her face pointing in the direction she came from, leaving her hair to be the only clue to her identity.

“I’m telling you Alpha, staying in New York isn’t smart” Sharon says, though not very quietly due to all the ambient noise. But Nats thankful as that allows her to not need to strain her highly trained ears too much

“New York is my home, I’m not leaving it.” The Alpha grunts, clearly irritated, “Besides, where would we even go?”

“The West Coast. Paris. London” she offers up with an exaggerated wave, “Somewhere that's farther away”

“Madripoor might better suit a couple of criminals, like yourselves” Nat says, sipping on her cocktail as she finally faces them

They both stiffen as they recognize her voice and take in her sudden appearance and Steve nervously clears his throat, “I think you have us mistaken for another couple, miss”

“Oh, I’m not mistaken” she says, smirking over the rim of her glass, “I’m a spy, as is my best friend. Do you really think it was difficult for us to find your locations and new identities? You two morons are literally still in Manhattan, couldn’t even be bothered to at least go to Brooklyn or Queens. And come on, Cartier? A five year old would have fared better than you two. Embarrassing really”

“That's enough” he growls out, clearly not enjoying the call out of his stupidity

“You're right, it is enough. Enough playing dumb and insulting my intelligence.” she says, setting her glass down a bit harshly, “If the two of you want to carry on this charade, then that's fine, but I'm taking the two of you in regardless of what names you call yourselves.”

“Is that so?” the other Alpha challenges

“It is.” She says, turning to look him directly in the face, “And if you think you're getting away from me, then you must be forgetting the highly trained assassin part of my background. But if you want a different ending than imprisonment and you want to give the patrons of this bar a show Rogers, then by all means, throw a punch.”

He clenches his fist, and for a moment she thinks he may very well do just that, until his Betas hand slips around his forearm in a soothing manner, “Alpha, please. There's no way out of this. But if we go with her, well, maybe they’ll at least let us be in the same cell block”

He sighs and relaxes once more, obviously resigned to his fate, “Okay. Lead the way, Romanoff”

“Try anything once we walk through those doors, Clint will put an arrow in you and I’ll put a bullet through you.”

When she gets the two outside she finds a SHIELD prisoner van is waiting for the two walking behind her. She smirks as she sees who waits with the keys, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, the whole facility heard about the team's failure with these two, and Fury knew he owed you big time for letting you down” she says, cuffing the two, “Least he could do is send me with a means of proper transport. Now, you want me to drive them? I'd hate for you to have to leave your fancy car behind.”

“Clint can drive it back, keys are in the visor” she says with a smirk, “But you're still driving, Hill”

She nods, “Yeah, saw that coming”

You're not sure how long you nervously waited to hear something about the situation once your Alpha left, but it felt far too long. You knew she was highly capable of taking on the pompous super soldier and his cohort but that didn’t mean you worried any less about your mate.

Finally the door to Yelena's room opens again, and there stands your Alpha with a smug look on her face and a gorgeous dress. Her appearance seems to take all words out of your mouth, and you flounder. Thankfully the other two don’t.

“Did you get them?” Wanda asks, already expecting the answer to be yes

Yelena however furrows her brows, “Why the hell are you so dressed up?”

“I’m not complaining” You hadn’t realized what you had let slip until the other three are chuckling at you, and your cheeks heat up

“I had to go to the Carlyle, remember? I wasn’t getting in there in my jeans and leather jacket.” she tells her sister while walking over to her Omegas, “And yes moi devochki(my girls), both of them are in the Raft where they belong”

You surge into your Alphas arms and she gracefully catches you, pulling you into a loving embrace. You let out a sigh of relief, and a few tears as you nuzzle against her, “Thank you Tasha, thank you”

“You don’t ever need to thank me for keeping you safe, Y/n. You're my mate and I love you. I’d tear down regimes for you, go against the likes of Thor if I must. I’d do anything for you” she admits, placing a gentle kiss against your temple, “And that goes for you too, Wanda. The two of you mean everything to me”

Wanda smiles and joins you in embracing her, “I know Tasha, and you're our everything too”

You nod in agreement and look up at her, “And I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us now that this is over”

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thefirstknife · 1 month

Note

We're told that at the beginning of the Golden Age "human lifespans tripled" - my impression is that this continues to be a case and that the humans we know are often well over 100 years old. In my head at least, Eva is in her mid 200s. Am I wrong, or is this supported by canon?

I believe it is still the case, though finding evidence is really difficult, mostly because we simply don't have a timeline. I think it would make sense for this to still be in effect because nothing else from the Traveler's terraforming and gifts was removed post-Collapse.

However, the question is also how much of the extended lifespan was due to the paracausality of the Traveler and its gifts and how much was just advancement in technology. Or a combination of both? If the majority of the lifespan extension was just due to technology, then this would've been lost post-Collapse. But possibly some of it could have been regained in the recent years, affecting the lifespans again.

One of the most obvious questions is Eris and the status of Lightless Guardians and aging. She lost her Light in the Great Disaster which was quite a while ago, but how long ago exactly? Long enough for this to affect her? Long enough to be noticeable or not? It doesn't seem to be very noticeable, so either it wasn't too long ago, or Guardians don't age even after losing their Light, or the lifespan is still extended so Eris is just old and it's not a big deal.

Eva is also a curious case, as we know very little about her life. She's very clearly an older woman, but we have no idea about when she was born. There's not a single mention of anything from her youth that would help us place it somewhere in the timeline. Has she been around for a normal amount of time or extended? She made one comment to Osiris (at the time Savathun, but Eva didn't know that):

"Eva. It's been too long. You look as bright as ever." Osiris melted out of the shadows near her doorway. The ex-outfitter snorted. "That's faint praise coming from someone who's been fifty for several centuries."

More under:

This can be read in several ways. it might just be a phrase because Guardians are known to not age. She knows Osiris must be the same as he was when he was rezed and she knows that he's been around for a while, given that he's a well-known Guardian. Or maybe she's also been around for a while and has seen him before; while she aged normally over the centuries, he didn't.

But that also becomes a problem with his exile because that would mean she would have to have seen him for a while before his exile and then years would've passed during the exile and she's still around now, which would make her quite significantly old (and would also prove extended lifespans). But we have no real proof of this.

Speaking of Osiris and his exile, there is one other specific piece of evidence, but it also depends A LOT on how well we can estimate when certain events happened.

Sister Faora! She led the Cult of Osiris at the time of Osiris' exile (and for ?? years after). We know this because she got to meet Osiris merely weeks after his exile:

The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him.

The last time she appeared in the setting (in-game wise) was around House of Wolves; after that, she was no longer mentioned. I honestly thought she died of old age and that this wasn't important enough to mention because she's a fairly niche character.

But she didn't die. She appeared in the City during Season of the Deep. And it's not a story of something from the past, it's her being in the City in the present time because she meets with Shayura who is mourning Reed-7's death (which occured at the start of Lightfall). This now gives us a unique insight because she's a normal Lightless human, and we have two specific points of reference: Osiris' exile and the Witness' attack on Earth in Lightfall. We would just have to figure out how long it's been between these two events, which is where the problems start and assumptions must be made.

My first assumption is that Faora must've already been old-ish when she was the leader of the Cult back during Osiris' exile. I think it's reasonable to assume this, given her position as a leader. I always thought she would've been at least 40 or older at the time of speaking to Osiris after his exile.

The first problem is the timeline of Osiris' exile. We know he was exiled around Twilight Gap which brings us to problem 2: when was that? This leads to assumption 2: Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago. There's some evidence to this, namely Osiris saying the following:

They were young, and nearly a century of navigation through the Infinite Forest had honed Osiris's ability to remain unseen.

But does this refer to the time passing in general or the time dilation in the Forest? So the problems continue. It's basically impossible to tell what's the time span between these events; both the Great Disaster (for the question of Eris' age) and Twilight Gap are notoriously hard to place, even in relation to each other. This has been an ongoing debate for years.

If Twilight Gap is not that long ago - maybe a few decades - then Faora's age could probably be within normal limits, though depending on her age at the time of Osiris' exile, she could be pushing 100 or more. So even if Twilight Gap was less than 50 years ago, Faora could still be too old for non-extended lifespans.

She would have to have been in her 20s and Twilight Gap would have to be at max 50 years ago for her to be within a reasonable current age if the lifespan is not extended. Both of these estimates feel too low to me, especially Faora's age as an established leader of the Cult with a lot of authority. As I said, I imagined her being at least 40-50 at the time of speaking to Osiris.

And Twilight Gap has to be at least several decades away. I find it hard to believe that the Gap happened like 20 years ago; it's always talked about like Guardian history and its relation to Osiris' exile is fairly significant as well, so I'd give it at least a century, which also matches with Osiris' statement. If Twilight Gap happened at least a century ago and Faora was at least 40 at that time, she would have to be 140 right now which I think would suggest extended lifespan. However, depending on how we do the estimates, she could easily also be around 60-70.

But the truth is, we don't know. Much like the timeline, I think this is also very deliberately vague. I think it's very possible that the lifespans are still extended, or perhaps that there is some middle ground. The original Golden Age lifespans are still out of reach but the technological advancements in the current age combined with everything the Traveler has done to the system in the Golden Age allow for humans to push past what we have today. So maybe they can't get to the projected Golden Age 300 years, but possibly being 150 or 200 isn't out of reach.

Unfortunately, we don't really know for sure. We could probably go into analysis of every normal mortal human character mentioned and try to figure things out, but there will be confusing and contradicting evidence all over the place, keeping this fairly vague. And there would also be the issue of individual outliers; either those that live longer or die younger for reasons unrelated to aging.

Personally, I think lifespans are at the very least at least somewhat extended.

#destiny 2 #eva #faora #ask #someone: normal ask #me: let me write a lot of words with a conclusion that there is no answer #anything that has to do with the timeline and age is soooo vague i am in pain #when you're an archaeologist and there's no way to date something to a specific point in time accurately. dies #crying every day when we don't have the ages of things #let me make the timelines and archives

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leupagus · 7 months

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Am I writing this largely because I enjoy the idea of Sansa and Stannis constantly hissing at each other like two belligerent cats? Listen,

By the first week of the siege, Sansa was forced to admit — if only to herself —that warfare was far less exciting than she'd imagined. When she had been told of Robb's victories in the Riverlands she had always pictured him triumphant upon a fearsome destrier, sword held high as he cut down his enemies before him. Then he'd been killed and she had lived through the Battle of the Blackwater, waiting either rescue or slaughter by the very man who was now her ally. That had not been exciting, precisely, but it had not been this dull and plodding affair. A far cry from the valiant knights and noble battles she'd read when she was a girl; but she'd had precious little turn out the way she'd been taught.

She slept at the camps near the front lines, in the same soldier's tent she and Brienne and Podrick had shared for the past four months. Stannis had made all sorts of ridiculous protests about "ladies" and "danger" until she'd had to remind him, once again, that her eight thousand men gave her the freedom to dictate her own movements.

"All very well while we're waiting out here, my lady," he'd growled in response, after his requisite glare at her flawless logic, "But when battle joins, you'll be nothing more than a nuisance."

"In which case, I'll be quickly killed and you can have Rickon installed as Lord of Winterfell instead," she'd replied, "as you were hoping to do in the first place." That had shut him up, at least, and he'd gone back to scowling at Winterfell's walls.

Every night when she returned to the camp, she stopped at Stannis's tent and joined the conference with their commanders and lieutenants. It was then that she learned about the waging of war: how men were best deployed, how training was maintained even in the midst of a siege, how sickness was kept at bay so that it did not kill more soldiers than did the battles. Stannis disliked her presence there, too, but she was rapidly coming to understand that he would only be truly happy when she was out of his life for good. Possibly not even then. He did not seem a man much given to smiles.

The men did not share Stannis's view, at least; as she walked through the lines each morning and night they stood to bow to her, and press the back of her hand to their foreheads as she remembered they had done to Mother so long ago.

"They say that the old gods have brought you back to us," Lord Reed told her one day, as he accompanied her on her daily walk to the winter town. "That they were angered when the Starks were driven from Winterfell, and that they're drawing you all back here one by one. They say that Robb Stark may come back from the dead, such is the rage of the gods, and avenge all who wronged your house."

Joffrey had been diligent in recounting every detail of what had happened to Robb's body after Roose Bolton had killed him. She repressed a shudder to think of it and held more tightly to Reed's arm, grateful for the warmth of him at her side. "I hope they are not disappointed if all they get is me and Rickon."

Reed chuckled. "They're well-satisfied, my lady," he said. They walked into the winter town just as the sun broke over the mountains. "You're a sight prettier than the Young Wolf ever was, that's certain."

The winter town was where her real work was done each day. It was the custom every winter for the smallfolk of the North to leave their hides holdfasts and journey here, bringing what they could cart or carry. The winter town would eventually house nearly one in three of every soul living in the North, seeking shelter together to endure the cold.

The Boltons had not bothered to do their duty, laying in no provisions and building no new housing. Up until now it had mattered little; even as the winds had begun to blow, few smallfolk had dared to come take shelter under the banners of the flayed man. The town itself had been all but abandoned, until word of the Starks' return had begun to spread throughout the North.

Now the winter town seemed to double in size with each passing day despite the ongoing siege of the Keep. Sansa had her hands full in directing builders, organizing kitchens, allocating what resources they had to feed and shelter everyone. In this she was aided by any number of friends and allies: those servants and household members who had first escaped during Winterfell's seizure by the Ironborn, or who had endured that but had fled the Boltons' brutal takeover; the households of her lords who had come to support the siege; even Lady Umber and her formidable staff lent a hand before she returned to Last Hearth. Her most steadfast assistants were Rickon and Shireen, who at first had joined her out of boredom but were now her little lieutenants, breathlessly updating her on all events of the previous night as she joined them for breakfast each morning. She received aid also from her men in the armies, assigning their builders to fortify the town in much the same way they were fortifying the siege camp.

Her lords approved of this; Stannis, of course, did not.

"You seek another threescore soldiers?" he demanded one evening.

The siege had now dragged on near a month. Bolton's men showed signs of distress, Lord Flint reported with no small satisfaction; they would not last much longer. But this had brought a fresh concern, and Sansa had broached it during their evening conference.

"We need to build up the palisades along the eastern side of the winter town," Sansa insisted, pointing at the map spread out along the table, with the various pieces representing the various companies all arrayed neatly atop. Stannis's wooden flaming hearts were outnumbered by Sansa's wolf heads two to one, though many of hers appeared hastily-carved from whatever spare wood was at hand. She reached for a flaming heart on the far side of the Keep, well away from the siege. "It need only be for—"

"Give me that," Stannis snapped, snatching it back. "Those men are covering the huntsman's gate, should any of Bolton's forces be cowardly enough to attempt escape rather than stand and fight."

"And you anticipate that happening in the next day?" she demanded, resisting the urge to lunge for the piece the way she used to with Robb when he had teasingly stolen her embroidery, holding it just out of reach. "There must be fifty or sixty men out of twelve thousand that can be spared."

"Why are the palisades in need of building up in the first place?" Stannis demanded, as Lord Glover opened and then shut his mouth to reply to her. "This winter town of yours is folly — you cannot grant entry to every farmer and tinker who pleads for shelter."

Sansa gaped at him in outrage, though even as she did so she was heartened to hear the murmur of her lords at such a comment. "That is precisely what is done, and has been for every winter since before Bran the Builder set stones to build Winterfell!" She glared at him. "This is a refuge, Your Grace."

"This is a siege, my lady," he retorted, looming over her. She thought longingly of the beautiful heeled shoes Margaery wore; she needed only a few inches to match Stannis's height, and see what good his looming did him then. "The smallfolk congregate here at their own risk!"

"My people congregate here because they believe I will keep them safe, and I will do so. With or without Your Grace's help!"

"Without, if it pleases my lady!"

Half-ready to club him over the head with the nearest chair, Sansa grabbed the flaming heart out of his hands and waved it in his face. "What are these men supposed to do, if Bolton and his soldiers escape out this way?"

Stannis looked too near a fit of apoplexy to reply, so it was Lord Cerwyn who cleared his throat and answered, "They are charged to report back, my lady, with some following at a safe distance to see where they go."

"It's perfectly obvious where they'll go," Sansa snapped. "Lord Bolton will make for the Dreadfort."

"Of course he will," said Stannis, finding his voice at last, though he did not try for the wolf's-head piece again. "That doesn't mean—"

"I know three dozen local boys who could hide along the route from the huntsman's gate to the eastern road and bring back reports, without clomping about the forests in full armor," Sansa said, slamming the piece down at the winter town. "And they might be able to bring back some food, while they're at it. Unlike your soldiers, they know how to hunt in the Wolfswood without frightening off half the game."

A few days later, she had her men.

#sansa stark #stannis baratheon #in case you're wondering: yes of course Sansa rescues him from the TITCHY LITTLE SNOWSTORM he gets stuck in #because this great and fearsome battle-tested soldier and commander apparently had no idea that snow happened in the North?#and yes Brienne has a lot of thoughts and feelings about this which will be gotten into #but in the meantime: slapfights between two people one of whom never had sisters the other of whom had TOO MANY BROTHERS #including Arya who was the most brother of all possible sisters #I'm just saying: Stannis is getting bullied and he deserves it #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get stuff done #ficcage of interest

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zerobaseonefics · 1 year

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enchanted ㅡ ricky

ricky x gn!reader

genre : fluff, fake dating.

warnings : none <3 shout out to my 🐇 anon and to @mins-fins cuz he seemed excited to read it yesterday 🤭

"ricky, stand up-"

"i said i would beg! i'm begging"

you sighed heavily. growing up as ricky neighbor, you two ended up being great friends. your parents knew each other so your families often did thing together, such as going to holidays, picnics and these kind of things. it is know to everybody that ricky's family was wealthy, and yours was just as much as your parents became business partners over the year.

"come on, i don't wanna go with them, and you have no one to take you there. if we go together, our parents will let us be!"

rich people problem, i guess... once a year, your parents' business partners organized a ball for their kids. it was not just a little dance for shit and giggles, no, it was just so the kids can meet together, fall in love and make their life with someone from a wealthy family. ricky and you grew up going there every year. when you were younger, your parents never pressured you to have a partner to go there. however, around a certain age, you better have one if you don't want your parents to be the laughing stock of town. ricky and you decided years ago to never go together, otherwise your parents would imagine things and think you're a couple. at that time, you didn't have those hidden feelings you have for each other like you have today.

and now, you guys were eighteen, going nineteen, and you had to take someone with you. the problem is, you were absolutly bitchless, and ricky's parent were forcing him to go with someone he couldn't stand.

"ricky, i would've gone with you if our parents weren't friends. you know damn well they won't stop teasing us with it and think we're in love or something."

"and? is it worse than you not pulling and me being forced to go with that goblin??"

"don't call people goblins, i already told you that's mean!" you choked, hitting his arm

"well i don't care!" ricky whined before letting his head fall on the kitchen table you guys were sitting at.

you were thinking about it, and yes, your parents thinking ricky and you are a thing wasn't a problem for you. at least, it was not worse than seeing someone else at ricky's arm. but you knew you will not be able to stand your parents thinking you guys are in love when you were convinced ricky didn't like you back.

suddenly, ricky got up.

"what if we tell our parents that we are dating, and then we break up after the ball so they leave us alone."

"i mean...that could work."

"so you're fine with it?"

the blonde looked at you with eyes full of hope, waiting for you to say yes. you let yourself a few seconds to think, before sighing.

"screw it, i guess that's a nice plan."

a huge smile on his face, ricky took your hand and dragged you with him to the door.

"mom, i'm taking y/n on a date, i should be back around 6!"

"what?" you said in a choked voice to make sure she couldn't hear it.

"you're dating y/n??" she suddenly appeared, her head peeking out of her room.

"i didn't know how to tell you, but yes, we've been dating for a few weeks now", ricky said confidently as you were turning red.

"oh my god! is it why you didn't want to go with my colleague's daughter?"

she started rambling about how happy she was about the news, and ricky had to cut her off gently for you two to go. he opened the door, not letting go of your hand.

"okay, so what do we do now..."

"we're going on a fake date."

"is it really necessary? our parents are not with us, we don't have to go that far."

"don't worry about that, it's to imbue us with the couple vibes."

and ricky took you on a date. once, and twice, and a third time again before the ball. and it never felt fake, not even once. or maybe you were just delusional? at least, that's what you were thinking, not knowing ricky was having the time of his life pretending to be your lover.

the night of the ball, ricky came to pick you up. you were surprised when you saw his cheeks turn crimson red when he saw you all done-up. it wasn't that hot tonight, why was he like this? (well you're a dense bitch) (i'm sorry) (let me go back to my serious narrator persona wait)

the feeling of taking you to the dance was bittersweet for ricky. you two have planned to fake your 'break up' to your parents after the ball. it means it was the last time he could take your hand, pass his arm around your waist or your shoulder to take you closer to him, look at him with obvious love in his eyes with the excuse of faking it so you won't be unconfortable.

everyone joked about how they knew you two will end up together since you were young, and they congratuled you on finally being a couple. but both of you knew the truth, and it's why it didn't please you as much as they thought it would.

the evening was going smoothly as you both tried to joke around and enjoy the moment.

now, the time has come. the most awaited moment by the people your age that were going to the ball was slowdancing, as cliche as it sounds. you watched the other kids as they got up with excitement with their partner to dance. the song playing on background was enchanted by taylor swift. tugging on a piece of your clothing, ricky tried to have your attention. you turned to face him.

"you're comfortable with doing this? we're not obliged to do it if you don't want to, you seem hesitant about it." fervently, you shook your head to deny his allegations.

"no no! it be weird if we didn't do it, right? and i'm comfortable, since it's you."

ricky tried to restrain his smile as he got up from the seat you two were on. he gave you his hand, waiting for you to take it in yours.

"can i have this dance?"

you laughed at his act.

"i would love to", you admitted, putting your hand in his. he took it to his lips to plant a kiss on it, still in his gentleman act.

and here you were, on the dance floor between all those stupid rich kids, your arms around ricky's neck as he was holding your waist, slowdancing. the blonde haired boy bent a bit to whisper in your ear, pulling you closer.

"can you believe we're breaking up tomorrow?" he mumbled in a teasing tone, making sure no one but you could hear him.

"don't bring this up, i'm your lover for at least... three more hours", you answered in the same volume.

"you know, now that i think about it, our parents are probably gonna freak out when we tell them we broke up."

"that's true, and we're gonna have to tell everybody here that we're not together anymore."

"seems tiring."

you simply nod, and ricky straightened himself up to look at your eyes. there was something special about the way he looked at you, something you couldn't explain. little did you know, that same thing was shining the same in your eyes, and ricky started to think that maybe his feelings were mutual.

"you're making me feel so weird right now." ricky confessed, which made you frown. you hummed in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

"do we really have to break up?"

"i mean, we're not gonna pretend forever... right?"

"it felt right to me. how was it for you?"

"how was what?"

"me being your boyfriend."

it seemed like a joke to you at first, but the more you observed his face, there was not even a pint of playfulness. he was dead serious. you didn't answer because you were taken aback, so ricky continued.

"i loved being your boyfriend, even if it was all an act. i might be wrong, but i feel like it wasn't that bad for you either. please let me take you on a real date at least once and if you don't like it, let's just forget about it."

"i don't think i can forget about it."

was is it a rejection? did he ruin everything by confessing? ricky let his head down in shame, cold sweat running down his back. suddenly, he felt your hand on his cheek, and he looked back up to you. you quickly kissed his lips.

"i would love to date you for real this time", you said, as enchanted was coming to an end. he beamed befofe leaning back to yours lips, and he was now the one kissing you.

#zerobaseonefics #zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 ricky #shen ricky #shen ricky fluff #shen ricky x reader #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet trainees #zb1 drabbles #zerobaseone drabbles #Spotify #zerobaseonefics : taylor swift series

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onlyjaeyun · 5 months

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i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.

you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.

the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?

idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.

thank you for the feedback!

i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?

now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright

on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense

now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.

and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.

yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮‍💨

if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.

as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"

i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine

do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this

if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr

oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)

and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters

goodbye

#; mailbox 📬#; cold hearts

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outmakingmoonshine · 3 months

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I wrote this reply a few weeks ago about the 773 tattoo on Carmy's arm that really looks like 223. You'll have to read that first because I'm not gonna explain it all again here and you'll need context to understand this post.

SPOILERS below if you haven't watched to the end of S3 yet

Right before this in Marcus's mum's funeral scene he's talking about having someone who really listen to you and pays attention to you and the camera does a not so subtle zoom in on SydCarmy's faces. Then the next scene is this one where Syd says she made the margins wider on the menus because Carmy always writes in them. We already know Carmy pays close attention to Syd and he does really listen to her even though it's like he gets amnesia right after and does the opposite of what she wanted, he does really try to listen and understand her in his own way. This an example of Syd really paying attention to Carmy immediately after being told how significant it is and how good it makes you feel. Carmy looked shocked that she paid attention to him and went out of her way to do something thoughtful for him and said "That's really nice. Thank you." Then Carmy goes on to do a checklist of the things they both need which also showed he knows her too.

Keeping the number meta above in mind, I'm not sure who first mentioned this (pls link the post if anyone knows so I can credit them) but sydcarmy both represent the number 2. In the post above I spoke about when the two 2's (sydcarmy) face each other and finally turn to take notice of each other. I'm pretty certain this scene was a small glipse of what their future together would be like if sydcarmy did face each other without anything or anyone coming between them. They become a cohesive unit, working together as one just like they were in this scene. Sydcarmy are mirrors of each other in many ways, just like the twos are mirroring each other on the clock behind them. I know one is technically a 5 but visually it's a 2 backwards and how else would they symbolize two 2's facing each other on a digital clock? Imo these numbers in this scene represent this moment being a good thing and a glimpse of what they could be, plus the whole scene gave me strong married couple vibes.

In numerology 9 represents completion/the end. The next number, 10, begins the cycle from 1 again or you could say it evolves, moves forward and keeps growing. 9 has other asociations but the core foundational meaning of it is completion. It's telling us in the end they will face each other and balance each other out, mirror each other. "Mirroring is an act of love." If that number sequence in the background of this specific scene isn't positive SydCarmy foreshadowing idk what is. This scene, the context, subtext and symbolism in it alone lets me know the sydcarmy love story and endgame is still very much on track. We're just taking a detour for now, like 99% of will-they-wont-they ships do right before the end of the story.

This shot showed directly after a Carmy/Claire opening scene in 3x05 and Carmy was laying in bed staring at it in some of the darkest blue lighting I think we've seen in the show.

I think this may even be a few shades darker than the sex scene with Claire. Imo it's because Carmy's in his darkest place now, he knows how he feels and who he wants but he can't have it. Carmy metaphorically turned to face Syd in the panic attack scene then fully turned, paid attention and listened to her in the table scene. Now he's somewhat aware of his feelings for her, tbh I think he does know but he's avoiding it because he's in a really dificult situation with Claire and he already let Syd down again after promising to be there for her. He doesn't love Claire romantically but he doesn't wanna hurt her either He's just stuck which is what I think this season was about, Carmy's still mentally and emotionally stuck in the freezer. Carmy said saying sorry to Claire was too hard and I think that's because he knows he has to tell her he doesn't feel the same way and it's gonna hurt her. We keep seeing cute flashbacks with Claire but I don't think it's because he misses her, I think it's because he feels really guilty that he lead her on so much because that's what the scenes were showing. He was acting all loved up with her and it's interesting that we the audience/Carmy never saw that last season and we're only seeing now it in hindsight. Remember the show is telling us the story through Carmy's eyes.

I said in the post above I initially thought the number 3 represented Claire and/or Marcus, but in 2x08 Carmy (2) asked Richie (3) to be the "go-between" and give Syd (2) an I love you note, literally putting the three in the middle of the two 2's so it made sense it probably represented him at the time.

And maybe it does, idk, he's been getting between them since S1 in one way or another, directly or indirectly. But it more likely represents anyone that comes between them. The third wheel so to speak.

Notice how the 2's aren't facing each other here in 2x08 because this was before Carmy faced what Syd means to him in 2x09.

And you may be wondering if the mirroring numbers represent how sydcarmy end up why isn't Carmy's tattoo 753? Well 753 isn't the chicago area code so it would raise questions why Carmy had a random tattoo of 753 so I think it was a choice to keep the symbolism but keep it subtle.

I didn't expect s3 to feel this bad (I should've tbh, this show always makes you feel the most) but I didn't expect it to go well for sydcarmy. That's why I posted this post the day before the episodes aired reminding everyone what the show told us to expect. They did warn us this wasn't gonna be a mushy gooey love story. It's not gonna be cute and sweet, it's gonna be ballbreaker and that's what Carmy's doing to Syd. He's doing to her what the NY Chef did to him. He's already making her sick, making her have panic attacks and he knows he's a "bad boss". He glanced her way when they were talking about it at the table in 3x10. When I saw Carmy confront NY Chef, for a moment I thought they were gonna have Carmy say the same to Syd one day in the future (this is how bad the whole situation felt while watching the show, it was truly horrible to watch) but I really don't think so. Carmy doesn't want to be anything like that arrogant guy so I can only imagine he'd be the complete opposite with Syd (someone he genuinely cares about) when he finally pulls his head out of his ass, metaphorically gets out of the freezer and faces the situation he's in like Cicero told him you have to run straight into it, you can't avoid it.

Even though this season was very hard to watch I think the same amount of subtext, symbolism and metaphors that pointed to sydcarmy in the last seasons is still all there. It's just more difficult to see, especially after 1 watch because there were barely any scenes that seem good for them on a surface level, they all went to Carmy/Claire. But underneath the surface a lot of the scenes imply good things are still to come for sydcarmy imo.

#sydcarmy spoilers #the bear spoilers #sydcarmy meta #sydcarmy #the bear season 3 #i really hope this made sense #i've only had a few hours of sleep bc of how stressful S3 was and I just wanna get this out asap #the bear fx #chef's kiss #carmy x sydney

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justmeinadaze · 9 months

Text

We're a Family Part 22 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Get ready to feel old <3. I wrote Good Neighbors a little over a year ago and I've loved how they've evolved. I'm not done with this little family yet. I still have one more chapter with Dylan and then some ideas with an older Ro but, ugh, lol I feel how the reader feels when it comes to her first born.

Warnings: Dads Steddie/ Mama Fem Reader, SMUT, edging (they are still trying new things), handcuffs, etc, FLUFF, they love each other <3 and their kiddos, ANGST, someone from the past comes back to talk to the adult Munson-Harringtons and Dylan, Steve and Eddie struggle being protective over their eldest (Eddie just hides it better), lots of talk about Dylan growing up and leaving the nest and how these three feel about it.

Word Count: 5256

An 18-year-old Dylan bounces anxiously on his toes as you sort through the mail too slow for his liking.

“MOM! Come on! Did anything come for me or not?”

Two years had passed since you reconnected with your mother and things had been going very well. She was always extremely busy with work but when she came over Aurora insisted on showing her all the movies she missed out on.

“Grandma! Watch how cool this is!”, the seven-year-old squeals with delight as they focus on the film in front of them. The light saber flies past Kylo-Ren into Rey’s hand and Ro breathes a sigh of excitement.

“Ok, now explain to me again how ‘the force’ works.”, yoru mom asks as she leans forward over her crossed legs on the couch.

You grin from your spot in the kitchen as you bump Eddie’s hip with yours.

“Definitely your daughter, nerd.”

“Takes one to know one, princess.”

James was now a toddler causing all kinds of chaos around the Munson-Harrington home. His sticky fingers got into everything even some of the cabinets that you had believed were too high for him to reach.

“James Wayne Munson Harrington.”, you scold with your hands on your hips as you watch him lean back and laugh with a wide smile that only rivaled that of his dad. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Plopping his butt down on the counter, he dangles his legs over the side as he reaches his tiny hand into the snack box and produces a chocolate chip cookie.

“Mama cookie…Yames.”, he coos as he points to himself while struggling to say his name correctly.

“Mhmm. Didn’t you just eat lunch?”

“For…for mama an Rara.”

“Don’t you bribe me and your sister with sweets, you little butthead.”

“Why are you being mean to our son?”, Steve asks as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.

“Because our son parkoured up the counter for a snack.”

The three-year-old giggles as he offers his dad a cookie that he accepts before lifting him into his arms and putting the box back in the cabinet.

“What did we say, bud?”

“Ask.”

“That’s right. You have to ask first. Now give mommy a kiss as an apology and get out of here, you butthead.”

Dylan was halfway through his senior year of high school and applied to a lot of colleges but was anxious to be accepted to a certain one because that’s where Daisy was going. The two of them had continued to date and see each other which you didn’t mind. What killed you however was that because of her family she was looking at a school that was a few states away. You had never been that far from your son and it scared you.

“I don’t know. I see bills and ads. Let me take my time to really read these though.” Dylan huffs making you smile as you give him a hug. He was so much taller than you now, your head resting against his chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “Everything’s going to be ok, weirdo. You’ll hear something soon. There’s still some time.”

***

Steve ran his hands over his eyes exhaustedly while grading papers during his lunch. With winter break coming up, he wanted to get everything out of the way so he could take these next couple of weeks to spend some time with the kids especially Dylan. When he had mentioned going to school out of state, of course, he was proud and encouraged him to apply but he’d be lying if he didn’t say the idea of his son being so far away broke his heart.

“Stevie?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice calmed him as he smiled towards the door his husband was leaning against.

“Hey you. What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, just started your lunch hour right?”

Steve knew that tone, something was going on that the metalhead was afraid would upset him.

“Yeah? Everything ok?” As he turned his head towards the hall, your ex-husband stepped into view. “No. Nope. Not happening.”

“Give us a second.”, Eddie gestured towards Charlie before entering the classroom and closing the door. “Steven, calm down.”

“Calm down? Why the fuck is he here?! Whatever he wants the answer is no.”

“Baby, sit. Please? At least hear me out first.” Steve huffed as he folded his arms and pouted while Eddie sat on his desk in front of him. “I get it. Trust me I do but I felt like…for what he’s asking we should talk about it at most. He wanted to speak to us both first out of respect because we are Dylan’s dads.”

“Damn right.”

“He’s not asking to spend time with him again or anything like that. Charlie doesn’t think Dylan would even want that but… he’s asking to see him graduate.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Edward Munson?!”, Steve practically shouts as he rises to his feet.

“Shhhh.”, the metalhead tries to calm him doing the same.

“No! He hasn’t earned that fucking right. He hasn’t been here AT ALL in over 5 years. Why is that?! Oh, that’s right, he signed him over. Charlie had plenty of chances to be there for him and he failed! WE raised him and he thinks he can just waltz back in and be a part of something like that?!”

“Steve! Breathe.”, Eddie tries to sooth as he cups his face in his hands. “Breathe. I get where you are coming from. I said all of the same things to him when he came to the shop. But… I get it from Dylan’s side to. Remember when I finally graduated? I was so excited that Wayne was there but there was still a part of me… that wished my mom and dad could see me finally do it to. A lot of that was to spite them and show them I could do it.”, he chuckled making Steve smile. “But a lot of it was also the little kid in me wanting them there.”

The man in his arms heavily exhaled before tilting forward to kiss his lips and gesturing for Eddie to bring him in.

“I warned you before, Charlie, about hurting my son. If we talk to him and he wants you there and you don’t show up…I swear to God—”

“No, no. I understand. I’ll move heaven and earth to be there I swear.”

“Yeah to bad you couldn’t do that for him or Brody before.”

“Steve.”, Eddie warned.

“No, he’s right. I always said I’d never be like my stepdad yet… I’m, um, glad he’s had you two. I’m working with Vivian to be there for Brody. I’m trying…”

“You understand if he or Y/N says no, then the answer is no?”

“Yeah, I understand. Thank you for hearing me out though. I know I don’t deserve it.”

***

Your eyes constantly raked across them during dinner while they ate. Both men seemed completely distracted but especially Steve.

“I’m done. I’m going to go play games upstairs.”, Dylan announces as he stands from the table.

“Ah, kid, do you mind staying for a bit?”, Eddie asked throwing the two of you off guard. “Are you done to?”, he asks Ro as she beams up at him with her messy face.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Can you take this troublemaker and go watch tv please?”, he laughs as Steve blind sides her with a napkin to wipe her mouth and the other boy pulls James out of his chair, placing him on the floor.

Aurora grabs her brother’s hand, giggling as they run to the tv in the living room. They wait until the sound of a show blares from that area before Eddie leans forward on his elbows and Steve leans back folding his arms.

“I don’t know how to ease into this so I’m just going to say it. Charlie came to visit me and Steve today.”

Your eyes widen as your head ticks to the side while Dylan sighs mirroring Steve’s posture.

“Whatever it is the answer is no.”

“Y/N…please. He said all he wanted was to see Dylan graduate from high school.”

“After everything he’s done?!”

“Yeah, I already went down that road, baby, but Eddie seems to think it’s worth the conversation.”, Steve exhaled heavily.

“Do you?”, his son asked. “What did you say when he asked?”

“I told him that it was up to you and Y/N. If you two said you were fine with it—”

“But you don’t want him there?”

Steve glances towards Eddie who gives him a look of subtle warning.

“No, I don’t.”, he answers honestly causing the metalhead to huff in frustration. “I don’t feel like he’s earned that luxury after everything he’s done and put you through. But…I also feel like it’s your choice. If you want him there then he should be there. You know no matter what, kid, you’re still my son. It won’t hurt my feelings if you want him there.”

“Our feelings.”, Eddie added. “I get what Steve is saying but I’ve been on the other side. My dad was in prison when I graduated. I was ecstatic Wayne was there but…”

Dylan’s soft eyes shift towards you as he reaches for your hand.

“Mom?”

“I just…I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t you to get your hopes up and then he doesn’t show.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Stevie already threatened him if he didn’t show.”, Eddie grinned making your son laugh.

“I’d, um, I’d like to talk with him before I make a decision if that’s alright.”

***

“Baby?”, Eddie cooed as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist while you leaned in the doorway of James’s room. Steve had fallen asleep in the toddler’s little racecar bed, his frame much too big for the mattress underneath as his legs hung off the side. His arm was holding the small boy to his side as he rested his sleeping head on his father’s chest.

“Eddie, why do you think everything with Charlie affects him so much more?”

“Hm, sweetheart, it affects us both about the same but Steve here just sucks at hiding it. I love Dylan with my heart and would do anything for him. I’d be lying if I said the idea of him going to graduation doesn’t make me angry but if that’s what our son wants then I want him to be happy.” You nod at his statement, giving the man pause. “How does it make you feel? Be honest.”

“I don’t want him to go. I don’t…trust that he’ll actually show up. I feel like Steve right now where I just want to tell Dylan that we’re his parents and the answer is no so we can protect him.”

“The problem with that, my love, is you don’t know for 100% if that will be the outcome. I mean look at what happened with your mom.”

“Eddie, he’s my baby.”

“I know, babe. I know.”, he soothes as he turns you around and wraps you in his arms.

***

“When he gets here, do you want us to leave you two alone?”, the metalhead asked as the three of them waited at a table in the nearby Hawkins Diner.

“Not like alone, alone though. We’d be a couple of tables away.”, Steve assured confidently, trying to push down all of the emotions he was feeling.

“Can you stay, please? I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m a little terrified.”

“Terrified how, bud? You don’t have to do this if you’re uncom—”

“Steve! Calm down, sweetheart.”, Eddie chuckles as he rubs his back comfortingly.

Dylan reached for his father’s hand and flashed him a big smile.

“Everything’s going to be ok, dad. No matter what you both are always going to be my real fathers.”

As they beamed over at him, a figure caught Eddie’s eye as it quickly turned to leave.

“Hey, I’m, uh, I’m going to go smoke before he gets here. I’ll be right back.”

Throwing on his jacket, the long-haired boy hastily power walked towards the front door, opening it just in time to see Charlie heading back to his truck.

“HEY! No. No, no, no, no.”, he shouted as he ran to block his path. “No. You are NOT doing this to him. You’re here now just get the fuck in there and talk to him.”

“I-I-I can’t. I saw him and… he looks so different now. That’s not my little boy anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t—”

Eddie abruptly shoved the man against his vehicle, cutting him off.

“You’re right. He’s not a little boy anymore. Unfortunately, you missed that because you were too fucking selfish. Now you have a chance to be a part of his adult life if that’s what he wants but, Charlie, if you walk away now that is never going to happen. Don’t be a fucking coward. He’s a good kid.”

“Because of you two. He fucking hates me.”

“Believe it or not, he doesn’t. Dylan thinks YOU hate HIM.”

“What? No. I love him and Brody so much.”

“Then where the fuck have you been?!”, he sighs releasing him from his hold. “He’s graduating with honors and a baseball scholarship to any school he chooses. He wants to go to a school up north with his girlfriend to major in music and education so he can become a music teacher. Dylan has worked so hard to get here. Don’t ruin it with your bullshit.”

Eddie shakes his head as he saunters back inside and plops down next to Steve.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”, he grins but his husband can see right through it.

Placing his arm around the back of his chair, he leans close to his ear.

“You’ll tell me later?”

A throat clears startling everyone as they turn to see Charlie standing beside the table.

“Hi. Hey.”, his voice trembles as he shakes Eddie and Steve’s hands before turning to give Dylan his attention. “Hey, um, wow. Jesus. You look so much like your mom.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you. She thinks I look like you. To be fair she thinks none of her kids look like her.”

“Yeah? How many siblings do you have now?”

“Not including Brody, two. A sister and another brother.”

Your ex nods taking a seat as Dylan folds his arms over his chest. The guys were trying their best to stay as out of the way as they could while still being present for their son.

“So, uh--”

“Why do you want to come to my graduation?”, the boy asked bluntly. “My entire life you never went to anything that I was involved in and then signed me away. Why do you care?”

“I didn’t…sign you away… I just…I was never good at being a dad.”

“Why didn’t you try? Was it because of me?”

“No. God, no. Dylan, to me you were…are… absolutely perfect. I love you with all my heart. That’s why I signed those papers. After talking with your mom, I realized these two would be a better father for you than I ever could.”

Your son nods, sighing under his breath as he collects his thoughts.

“Mom will be there and Vivian to. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Oh, uh, no. I didn’t realize they were talking to each other.”

“They aren’t. Dylan wanted to get to know Brody and Vivian missed him so Y/N lets him go to her house on the weekends.”, Steve explained.

“Wow. It seems a lot has changed.”

“It’s been 5 years, Charlie. What did you expect?”

Your ex flinched at the sound of Dylan using his name but unlike the incident with Steve, it didn’t bother your son. He had long since moved past feeling like Charlie was his dad and could honestly never see himself calling him that again.

“I don’t want you to go to my graduation but, maybe, we could get together and get to know each other again. Work our way up to having a relationship… I mean if mom and my dads are okay with it.”

“Yeah, Dil. I’d like that.”

Hearing Charlie call him that again stuck a raw nerve he kept tucked away for the last five years causing him to abruptly rise from his seat.

“Ok, I’m ready to go now.”, he announces without waiting for an answer and flying out the front door.

“Thank you guys for this. Tell Y/N I said thank you to.”

“Oh, she didn’t approve of this either. I’m the only one that seems to be slightly on your side but that’s because I know what it’s like to have your father abandon you.”, Eddie exhales as he and Steve get up as well.

“I didn’t…I didn’t abandon him.”

“Yeah, sure. Neither did my dad. He just boosted cars and ended up in jail for the rest of his life. It’s not his fault.”, he responded sarcastically. “Step one on rebuilding your relationship with him Charlie… Own your mistakes.”

################

“No Grandpa! You have to wear the crown because you’re a princess.”, Aurora giggled as she places the colorfully crown she created out of paper onto Wayne’s head.

“I’m a princess? Not a King?”

“No.”, she laughs harder, cover her mouth with her little hand.

Beaming over at them from your place on the floor, you and James continue to color in his little coloring book Eddie’s uncle had brought over.

“Granpa, purty.”

“Thank you, James. I do feel beautiful.”

The alarm beeps as the front door opens and you do everything in your power not to get up to run to them anxiously.

“Oh wow, Wayne. I must say, you make a gorgeous queen.”, Eddie teases.

“For your information, son, I’m a princess.”

The metalhead chuckles as they come to sit by you in the living room and your son immediately crawls to Steve to show him his pictures.

“Dada, look.”

The sound of Dylan’s feet subtly bang up the stairs as he heads for his room and closes the door.

“He’s ok, baby. Just needs some time alone.”, your husband assures.

“What happened? Did he show up?” They gave you a recount of everything that happened including Eddie telling you both about him almost leaving. “I can’t say I’m not happy he won’t be going but who knows. Maybe in these six months Dylan may change his mind.”

The next couple of days went by with little to no fan fair as Christmas break finally came. That Friday after coming home from work, you checked the mail like you normally do except a college insignia catches your eye. Running full speed into the house, you drop everything as you scream your son’s name.

“Jesus Christ, woman. What is happening?!”, Eddie exclaims as he slides in from the kitchen.

As Dylan sprints down the stairs with Steve in tow, you present him with the envelope he had been waiting weeks for. Hastily, he yanks it from your grasp and tears it open as you dance on the balls of your feet.

“Oh my god.”

“What? Is it good news? Bad news?”

With wide tear-filled eyes, a small grin spreads along his face.

“I got in.”

All the adults in the room shout in excitement as you tackle hug your arms around him.

“Baby, oh my god. I’m so proud of you!”

“Good job, Dylan.”, Eddie beams. “You’ll be the first Munson to go to college.”

“I’m proud of you to, little man.”, Steve smiles softly as he gives the boy a hug.

“I’m going to go call Daisy. I love you guys!”, he declares as he speeds back up to his room.

The metalhead holds up his index finger in your direction as both men tilt their head and wait for his door to close before the other boy nods. As soon as you get the go ahead, you fall into their arms and begin to cry.

“I know, baby. He grew up too fast. We’re going to miss him to.”

***

“Ok, I finally got Aurora and James to sleep. Eddie is in the kitchen eating Santa’s cook—“, Steve froze when he finally entered the bedroom and noticed the image before him.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed in a velvet red lingerie dress that cut off just so on your thigh barely hiding your panty less crotch with the white fluff that wrapped around the bottom. Your hair was curled and flowed down your shoulders as the Santa hat you wore sat perfectly on your head.

“I thought you two could open this present early.”, you grin in a seductive voice as you cross your legs and lean back on your hands.

“Eddie…”, Steve tried to call with a needy crack in his tone. “E-Ed-Eddie… EDWARD!”

“What!?”, the metalhead whisper shouts making you giggle. “Dude, lower your voice. You’re gonna wake—” While he was talking, the man pulled his collar to hurry him up and your grin grew as the other boy’s mouth fell open as well.

“Get in here, you dorks.”, you tease as you get up, pull them both into the bedroom, and shut the door. “I was thinking we could try something Eddie has mentioned a few times.”

“Oh my god, I’m so in love with you.”, Steve sighs happily as he lifts you into his arms and spins you around before placing a kiss on your lips. “Do we get to handcuff him? Please tell me we do!”

“If you both want.”

Eddie giddily climbs into the bed, kissing your lips before a thought crosses his mind.

“Wait, we haven’t handcuffed Steve to the bed yet and I feel like this whole edging thing would be way more fun to do to him… Mr. I’m-the-big-protector-guy.”

The pretty boy rolls his eyes as he falls on to his back, lifting off his shirt, and throwing it in his husband’s face playfully.

Pushing some of your hair behind your ear, you restrain him to the headboard as the metalhead pulls off the boy’s sweats and boxers.

“Should we have like a safe word or something? You both get sensitive quickly and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”, you ask in a soft, loving voice that makes him smile.

“I’ve heard ‘Red’ is a good word.”, Eddie offers, grinning when you both nod in affirmation.

“Say ‘Red’ if I’m uncomfortable. Got it.”, Steve repeats, smirking when you put your Santa hat on his head. “You know, you’re pretty sensitive to, fyi.”

“I guess next time, we’ll have to test that theory.”, you tease as you run your palm through the hair on his chest and over to his side. “Ok, my love, do you want to start since you’re the sexual deviant that’s been looking up this stuff?”

The long-haired boy smiles mischievously as he leans over the other boy’s stomach to kiss your lips.

“You…like…it.”, Eddie coos between each peck.

As you continue to rub his chest, Steve’s breathing stutters as the man he loves take his cock in his warm hands and begins slowly stroking him.

“How does that feel, baby?”

“G-good. Really good. I like when y-you both touch me.”

Your palm slides up his neck to his cheek and he tenderly kisses your thumb as it grazes his lips. Shifting your body, you curl up on his side as you listen to the sound of Eddie spit over his tip and smear it along his length making Steve’s mouth open in a silent O.

“Fuck, Eddie, baby.”

Trailing kisses along his side, your hands and nails continue to roam his upper torso as his back arches at the sensations. As your husband’s ringed hand pumps him faster, Steve bites his bottom lip to suppress the loud moan that wants to escape.

“You look so handsome like this.”, you whisper as you tenderly move some of his hair away from his face. “Keep talking to us, Stevie. Please.”

“C-Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Too…too good.”

Beaming towards the other man, he winks at you as he drops another glob of spit over Steve’s tip as the boy ruts up into his hand. You both know his tells for when he’s about to let go; you’ve all studied each other very well over these past almost 12 years. Just as Steve was nearing his release…Eddie let him go and leaned back on his knees.

“N-No. No, no, no!”

“How are we feeling now, Harrington?”

The man huffed as he tugged on his restraints before groaning with need as Eddie wrapped his lips around his cock taking him all the way down to the back of his throat. After kissing his lips, you trailed your own down his chest to his stomach and stopping just above the base of shaft.

The metalhead came off him with a syrupy smack, stroking the man with his hand as he leaned towards you to passionately kiss your lips. The two of you played with Steve for a good long while, taking turns bringing him to the edge just before pulling back. His cock was dripping with both your saliva, angry and red from all the teasing.

As you glanced his way, his eyes were squeezed shut as he muttered things under his breath.

“Steve, honey? Are you ok?”

His eyes opened abruptly, meeting yours with a fire you hadn’t seen from him in a very long time.

“Eddie, let him go.”, you breathily moaned as his intense gaze never left yours.

The moment the cuffs came off, Steve’s sweaty frame practically tackled your own as he lifted you into his arms and spun you around making you giggle at his earnestness as your head hit the pillows. His lips devoured yours as if it had been ages since he tasted your kisses. Hissing at your touch, you reached between you both and guided him into your entrance. Before he could make any kind of movement, Eddie took hold of his hips and slide into the man above you.

Steve was anything but gentle as he slammed his lower half into you both desperately chasing his release.

“Oh…oh my God, baby. Just like that.”, you whimpered as his head feel beside you, latching his lips to your neck.

Glancing up to your other husband, his hair blocked his face as he grunted and clung to Steve’s waist as he met each thrust with a hard, rough one of his own.

The bed underneath you began to shake and the metalhead quickly reached up to hold it still with his palm.

“Fuck, Steve. You feel so fucking good. I love you, baby. M-Make me cum.”

Clinging to his hair and back, he pounded into you till the coil snapped and your pussy clenched tightly around him. The sound he made in your ear drove you crazy as his body trembled on top of yours and you felt his seed release inside of you. As he aggressively thrust it deep into your cunt, Eddie fell against his back, and held his chest as he came inside of the man below him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that was amazing.”, the metalhead panted. “Steve, sweetheart, are you ok?”

“I think he fell asleep.”, you giggled as you petted the boy’s head. “Stevie, baby?”

“Hm?”, he grumbled as he snuggled closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm…mmhmm…”, he nodded.

“As much as I would love for you to fall asleep inside of me, it’s Christmas eve. You know at 7am those kids are going to burst through our door.”

Groaning, he nods as he rolls off you with Eddie immediately ready with a pair of boxers and rag to wipe him off. After making sure Steve was set, your husband grinned as he lifted you into his arms, disrobed you, and placed you in the shower as he delicately cleaned you.

“I love you to, baby.”, you smile up at him as he kisses your forehead.

“I love you even more. You looked really gorgeous in that outfit and I’m sure Steven will agree when he’s more coherent.”, he chuckles.

Wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, he does the same as he rests his chin on your head.

“You know these next few months I’m going to need you two to help me hold it together.”

“I know, sweetheart. I can’t even picture Dylan not being in this house anymore. God, and we’re both going to have to be on Steve duty because you know he’s going to be a mess to.”

################

While Eddie and Steve sip their coffee, you pat James’s back as he curled up around you after opening all his presents and went back to sleep.

While Aurora was distracted with her morning cartoons, Dylan had gone upstairs to change and came back down just as your doorbell rang. Passing the baby to one of his fathers, you threw on your jacket and opened the front door to a fiddling Charlie.

“Oh, um, hey Y/N. Merry…Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, so you’re taking him to Vivian’s?”

“Um, yes, ma’am. She’s letting me spend the day with Brody so I asked Dylan if he wanted to join and he said yes.”

Turning to your son, you fixed his ski cap before kissing his cheek.

“No detours to Daisy’s ok? I want you home straight after for dinner.”

Smiling at you, he jogs towards your ex’s truck and quickly climbs into the heat.

“Thank you for this. I really appreciate it…after everything.”

“Don’t thank me, Charles. Thank those men in there. I still think this is a bad idea because of everything but we all just want our son to be happy. But I swear to God…I’m not the same woman I was 18 years ago. If you hurt him—”

“I know…your, uh, boyfriends threatened me already.”

“Husbands. Oh, they’ll be the first wave but I’ll be the finishing move. I’m not weak anymore.”

“You never were.” His response startles you as you hug your arms tighter around your body and he softly smiles. “I’ll have him back in a few hours.”

As you reentered the house, their eyes watched you as you sit beside them on the couch still hugging yourself. Ringed fingers threaded through your hair before turning you to face them.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah. It’s just weird seeing Charlie be this way.”

“I can understand that. It’s like if my dad came through that door with a smile and a Santa level of presents.”, Steve sighed.

“Are you both ok? I told him to be home for dinner that way after we eat maybe you three can play that new game we got him.”

“It’s whatever he wants, baby. I try to remember what it was like when I was his age and I never wanted to be home.”, the pretty boy laughs. “So, the fact that he likes hanging out with us at all makes me happy.”

Eddie nods in agreement as James wiggles in his embrace.

“Daddy. Yames…hungee…”, the boy babbles as he taps his mouth with his palm.

“I guess it is that time to start fattening him up so we can have him plump enough to eat for dinner later.”

“No, daddy! Don’t be mean to James.”, Aurora scolds as her brother giggles.

“Come on, you. Let’s see if Santa left us anymore cookies in our pantry.”

#########

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 2 months

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If we're doing fnaf, how about Sundrop/Moondrop eating until there's no one left? Over time snacking on regulars, their bandmates, and security guards, until no one is coming to the pizzaplex anymore because over the course of a few months, they ate all of the customers.

Oh that’s a lot of fun. Some real inane gluttony for them.

Sun has absolutely no idea how he let Moon talk him into doing something so...inappropriate. It’s been going on for over a week now and seems to be nowhere near stopping. Sure, Sun can never resist a fun game, but this feels like a strange choice of one. Moon’s constant egging didn’t help much either. Or the fact that he’d already gotten a head start...

Sun gulps wetly and his mouth clacks shut again. He rubs slightly along the sides of his gut as he feels it bloat and stretch even further. Gosh, how many people was that now? He stopped counting a couple of days ago. Customers and employees alike have sunk down his gullet and into his gut. At this point, his stomach is working so hard that they aren’t lasting very long, either. Just trying to think about how much he’s eaten was enough time for his gut to mulch down its latest snack and leave it groaning for more.

“Hm...guess I was going too easy on you.” The sound of Moon’s voice makes Sun perk up and look over. His partner in crime slunk in silently as he tends to. His normally lithe form is much...heavier looking than usual. Sun can only imagine he doesn’t look much different. “You hit the triple digits first.” Moon’s neck clicks as he tilts his head and giggles. “Greedy, greedy...”

Sun’s systems heat up slightly and he puts his hands on his stomach. “I-It can’t possibly be that much! You’re exaggerating!” Though he has been eating a lot of...larger meals. There was that party he cleared out. And he got to the guard station before Moon tonight. And he wound up in the gift shop during a high-traffic time of day yesterday...but he couldn’t have really eaten that many people already, could he?!

“I gotta keep up,” Moon hums, tilting his head in the other direction. “Need something more...impressive. Like...” His gaze shifts away from Sun as someone walks by. Sun was a bit worried it was a worker that caught onto their game finally, but it was just F.oxy coming by. What a relief...

“Aye, there ye two are!” F.oxy says. “What’re ye doin’ out of the daycare? The captain heard that ye were gone and got worried that...” He pauses, looking the two of them over. “...have ye been sneakin’ too much pizza?”

“We’re just playing a game,” Moon says before Sun can respond. His eyes glow a deep red, and he gets down into a pouncing position. “...and I’m going to win, win, win..!” Moon lunges to both F.oxy and Sun’s surprise. The daycare attendant crashes right into F.oxy, knocking the pirate to the ground with a cry. There’s a crash and some shouting and...swallowing. Oh gosh, he’s not really...

Sun’s fears are confirmed when Moon stands up and has a pair of kicking legs hanging from his jaws. He tips his head back and slurps wetly, dragging the rest of F.oxy down into his gullet. His stomach bulges out a bit and hangs lower, but all the heft he’s gained today has helped to mute a lot of the bulges the pirate made. Moon looks at Sun with his usual grin as the last of F.oxy disappears. “That counts for more points.”

“Moon, that’s not fair!” Sun demands. “...and let F.oxy out! That’s our friend! You can’t eat him!”

Moon pats his gut a few times and lets out a low belch. “...just did.” He bursts into giggles and starts to haul his catch off. “And I’m going to have more!” Sun watches Moon waddle away, the sounds of F.oxy’s muffled voice fading with him. He’s certain that he should have done more to get Moon to stop but...after all his hard work, he can’t let Moon change the rules like that and win, right? That wouldn’t be fair at all.

Sun walks off quickly. The P.izzaplex sure is emptier than usual...Moon wasn’t serious with that count, right? It’s likely just so empty because of the time. Yeah, that’s it. The others will be alright by tomorrow when the technicians come by to fix them up. Or did Moon eat the technicians..? While he’s pondering it, he nearly walks right into B.onnie.

“Woah!” The rabbit puts a hand on Sun’s shoulder to stop him and chuckles. “Funny running into you here. I was just looking for you. Feels like everyone’s been going missing lately and Fred wanted us to check on you guys since you weren’t in...hey, Sunny, you good? You’re giving me a weird look.”

“..ah!” Sun shakes his head quickly. “I’m fine! Great, even! Yep!” Sun isn’t really about to do this, is he? His belly grumbles at the thought of Moon winning. “...actually, Bonbon, I need you help with something real quick! Sorry about this!”

“Huh? What are you sorry a...bout..?” B.onnie trails off as Sun gets in his face and opens wide. “Wait--” The daycare attendant’s jaws snap down before he can finish. Wet, thick gulps begin to ring out, dragging B.onnie down the hatch. Despite his size and bulk, Sun finds that the rabbit goes down very smoothly! Even when he starts wiggling, Sun doesn’t have much trouble. Maybe that’s because B.onnie’s arms got pinned down before he really started fighting...

Either way, Sun pushes down on B.onnie’s feet, shoveling his lower half down the hatch. He can feel the rabbit plunge down into his stomach, stretching it out immensely as he’s crammed inside. It’s been working down humans rather quickly. Sun wonders if B.onnie will last any longer than that. The thought is interrupted by a very loud belch that flustered him. “Oh! Excuse me! Gosh, that was easier than it looked...”

Sun gives his gut a few pats and rubs as he feels it bulge and slosh. B.onnie’s muffled voice is probably saying something a bit ruder than Sun would like to hear. Best not to think about it! He needs to go find the other two before Moon does. Hauling his stomach along as best he can, Sun resumes his waddling. He’s definitely going to win now!

...oh. Maybe not. Sun manages to find M.onty like he wanted, but it’s only as a thrashing tail poking out of Moon’s jaws. With a wet slurp, it’s gone, and Moon’s gut sags down with a wet slosh as a thrashing, roaring M.onty is dropped inside. He greets Sun with a very harsh belch that sends F.oxy’s hook flying out of his jaws. “Too slow, too slow...” He snickers and smacks his gut a few times.

“Well, I managed to get Bonbon!” Sun brags, patting his own stomach. The sound of his name gets B.onnie to stir and push around, muffled voice crying out. It gets a burp out of Sun and makes him flush a bit. “So, that just leaves...”

“Ah, there you two are!” F.reddy exclaims as he walks over. He takes Sun’s hand, smiling. “I was worried about you! I had the others help try to find--” F.reddy’s unable to finish as the hand he’d given Sun is quickly crammed into the attendant’s maw. The bear yelps as his arm is suddenly slurped in.

Moon lets out a huff as he watches. F.reddy cries out for help, but his head is shoved into Sun’s maw and the bear is dragged down with more heavy gulps and slurps. “Lucky, lucky...” Moon grumbles bitterly. His own guts bubble out thickly, M.onty’s face stretching it out for a moment as he roars. Just for Moon to shove him back into place and belch up his sunglasses.

Sun groans softly as he slurps up F.reddy’s kicking feet, plunging the last of the bear down into his stomach. It sloshes and wobbles as he feels his final meal sink in, working out a hard belch. He rests his hands on his stomach and rubs it. “Ooooh...that’s everything, right? Can we finally stop playing..?”

“Hmph...” Moon crosses his arms. “Stupid game anyway...” He turns to walk off, heading back for the daycare. He’s being a sore loser, which Sun was worried about. He’d be more upset by it but...after all that eating, and two heavy meals in his gut, he really needs to just sit down for a while.

“That means I win, right?” Sun asks as he trudges after Moon. Fredy is kicking around hard, making his gut slosh back and forth. He can’t feel B.onnie thrashing nearly as hard now, though. Feels like F.reddy might be weighing him down. Sun belches harshly again and rubs his gut with a slight whine. Why did he play this game anyway..? There wasn’t even a prize.

The daycare animatronics settle down in their room finally. By then, M.onty and F.reddy have lost a lot of their steam, and F.oxy and B.onnie are hardly moving at all. Moon sulks on his own despite Sun’s efforts to cheer him up, and their stomachs shrink down with thick, harsh noises all the while.

It’ll take a while for either of them to notice the sign that gets posted to the front of the P.izzaplex the following morning. ‘Closed indefinitely due to worker shortage’. So it might be a while before they get to eat like that again...

#v.ore #male vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #gay vore #vore story #oral vore #digestion #fatal vore #instant digestion #weight gain #fnafvore #sundropvore #moondropvore #glamrockfreddyvore #montgomerygatorvore #bonnievore #foxyvore #ask

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khristie16 · 1 year

Text

Table number six p.4/…

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

summary: you decided to disappear from your hometown with your bestfriend, finding the anchor in Monaco. With your talent to be in the right place at the right time you got yourself into some fine situation

PS summary: Charles is confusing you, he is sweet one second and the other he looks like he wants to devour you. Yet under the surface he’s not ashamed at slightest about what he wants to do with you and what he will do to get it

warnings: angst, deep talks, smuttish day dreaming

Word count: 2.6 K

notes: there you go! :* @laneyspaulding19 @f1obessed

You were watching Charles. He was drifting away, his thoughts consuming him inside and confusion taking the best of him, eyes wandering all over the room where the two of you been staying now. With his lack of attention, you got eager to analyse everything about him. His expression was hard, it's been like that since you've known him, yet his features were soft - the lines, the curve of his lips, the nose. Pascal showed you few pictures with him, Charles was smiling on them, that is the first time you noticed he has dimples. From such uncovering you felt pain in your chest. Why you cannot see him smile? You're not a bad person at all. But he makes you feel like you are. He is giving you a hard time, yet all you could think about was wrapping your arms around him and try to soothe the pain, for the mere fact you knew there had to be something going on. His under eye bags were clear and certain from the lack of sleep. His face beautiful yet no sign of life. You didn't know that the only life he currently felt was in lack due to the actuality he was far away from you. You didn't know he didn't sleep so he could just go back to you. Caught up in your thoughts, you didn't recognise he is now analysing you, his eyes hard and stiff. There was a light resentment from your side, you didn't like what he was doing to you.

Alright. We're gonna just stare at each other or what?

Charles wondered at your comment and looked surprised. You, on the other hand, started to lose patience, even though you promised you wouldn't let it affect your mood.

I'm gonna take you out.

You were looking at him intensively and laughed after few seconds.

SILENCE

Like seriously??

Do I sound like I'm joking?

Ehm, yes??? It's literally six in the morning-

-Half past seven

....Whatever, and now you asking me out??

I'm not asking you out, I'm taking you out.

What's the difference??

The difference is I'm taking you out as a friend. I'm taking care of the fact, you yet haven't seen the nicest place here in Monaco. Somewhere where you could read in silence, by yourself.

Firstly, the ache in your heart about hearing the word friend was getting too much, secondly, how he can in the next few seconds make this feeling vanish, burn it to ashes. He knows you like to read, he listened to you when you were telling almost everything about your life to the whole family almost a week ago. He listened.. does it mean he cares about you?

Soo, you're taking me out, as a friend, somewhere so I can read nicely all alone??

Bah ouais, I highly doubt that this - whatever guy it was, have shown you something nice here in Monaco.

Since when it is about him?

He looked at you more intensely. Dropping his stare to the ground, pain visible. The misery you felt for him right now was at its peak. You didn't acknowledge you've made some steps towards him and stared at him, waiting for him to look at you and tell you what is wrong in his life. You hoped so badly he will look at you and confide in you, so you could make him feel better, however it'd be possible. Just so you could see his beautiful dimples and shiny flickers in his eyes. Now his glare soft a little, looking at you. His eyes held so much depth and feelings you almost got lost in them. The need in you to lick his wounds and find a way in grew bigger. You really don't know what is happening to you and you hate him for that. Yet all you cared about right now was him - you've forgotten about you for a moment and just were being there for him If he needs you. But before anything could've had happened, he put up his mask back again and was the old Charles once more.

We're going. I have a car here. Allez.

>>>

The ride was in silence. It was highly uncomfortable to spend time with each other and not talk. You just wanted to be friends, a real ones, not this who you two are trying to fool yourself into thinking you are.

Your mother didn't tell me what your work is.

I drive.

Like a chauffeur?

No- I race and I drive.

So race driver?

Yes

That's cool!

He gazed towards you in surprise. As a little child, you always were eagerly watching your father driving, and prayed for that one day when you could finally drive on your own. This - was probably the only thing you pondered on as a good thing to take from your family.

I can imagine it's super fun.

It is my passion.

For how long?

Few years.

Doesn't it get boring over time?

Not in a slightest.

You've decided to tell Charles about your experience with cars. You laughed when thinking back of those memories how you took your friends for the first time and saw the shock in their eyes. You were the only one laughing obviously. Your friends just wanted to survive the ride. As the time were passing by, you talked much more, what food you like and how you like any sports to do. You didn't even noticed you had your monologue for ten minutes straight and more. Detecting yourself, you stopped talking and looked out of the window.

Have you even noticed I'm sitting right next to you?

What?

It was like you're in your own space, not giving any attention to people around you. I have to say it's quite amusing.

You took a look on him, and you saw the dimples. Not so much, but they were at their place. And it made your heart warm again.

>>>>

I hope you're not hungry. I thought of going to brunch after the place I wanna show you.

It's fine.

The car stopped on the main square Place du Casino. You got a little uncomfortable since you were dressed rather comfortable than elegant. As if Charles read your thoughts, he told you you have to take a little walks to get to that place. While passing by the square, you turned to a tiny street with not so much people in it. It was still quite early in the morning, but still - not so many shops here either.

Where are we going?

Just be patient a little bit more.

Charles led the way and stopped in front of wooden dark doors on the side. Grabbing the handle, he looked at you back again and smiling a little. You followed his route.

The heavy wooden door creaks slightly as you push it open, revealing a place that exudes a sense of nostalgia and comfort. The air is scented with the faint aroma of aged paper and polished wood. The library's interior is bathed in a warm, golden glow as sunlight filters through the tall, narrow windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. The light dances upon the dust particles suspended in the air, creating an almost magical ambiance. The muffled sounds from the outside world are distant echoes, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the serene environment. In this charming wooden library, time seems to slow down, allowing you to bask in the comfort of a world that revolves around the written word and the peaceful embrace of old-world charm.

It was safe to say you fell in love immediately.

What is this place?

I suppose your comfort place by now.

He was looking at you now, his gaze warm and soft and his smile on full display. His dimples were saying a hi to you. You got lost a little in such a warm embrace coming from him you had to clear your throat to continue.

Charles, really. How did you find this place?

Friend's of mine.

There are not many people here.

They even cannot be. This is not a public library.

You got confused. Why are you there if it's not public? And why he told you that this will be your comfort place by now? As you were thinking, someone appeared in the corner of your eye. The silhouette was getting closer to Charles, giving him a warm hug.

Salut Charles

Salut Antoine. I brought a friend of mine.

I see. Bonjour madame, I'm Antoine.

Bonjour. I'm YN.

I can see you like it here very much. You like books?

Oh, yes! I love to keep my nose deep in the papers and spend the day like this.

That is nice to hear.

You chat a little bit and Charles signalled you to take a look on your own. You were happy at such command. You forgot about what is happening between you and Charles and just let yourself be in the present moment, smelling the books and feeling the wood at your fingertips.

After a while, Charles stood beside you.

I talked to Antoine, you are welcome anytime you want.

Charles-

-No. Take it. I want you to take it. Alright?

You just nodded. Charles didn't give you much time and space whatsoever to ask more, you then decided to leave it for now. But there was another thing on your mind. You had to talk to Charles. As you were sitting down, you held gaze with his to communicate it with him. He hesitated for a bit but then sat down as well. The light from the narrow windows casted a warm golden brown on his face. He was starting to be the top three things to look at. You always lost a sense of time like this. His eyes were soft again, they already were from the time he got back to you, seeing you standing in front of him in the kitchen with furrowed eyebrows. He adores this face look of yours. He thought you are cute when being mad. He was smiling at you now, thinking of early in the morning, but to you with no apparent reason, confusing you even more.

Why are you doing this?

You're my friend.

Yeah, I've heard that already. But really. I thank you so much, it's beautiful. I just want to know why.

It was hard for Charles to tell you more. He wasn't certain if he should do that. He was split within. He was leaving his common sense behind from the first moment he saw you. When your comforting and honest eyes were captivating his thoughts about not telling you anything, it all shattered down.

I feel like I should do it.

What do you mean?

Your the first person after such a long time that is real, open and vulnerable.

Vulnerable?

Yes - anything that comes to your mind is visible on your face, your emotions are talking to me through your body and I haven't seen this in such a long time.

(My emotions are talking to him? What does he mean by that?)

For how long?

Long. And I think it's my fault a little.

Why you say that?

I lost too many people already. My first love ended abruptly, in a disaster. Right on that I lost my father. And since then, I've changed. I've lost the sense of being vulnerable. Of feeling anything deeply. I'm someone I don't know.

C-Charles-

- It's fine, you are not obligated to say anything to it.

......

It's not such a great thing to be this vulnerable you know?

What do you mean?

It is suffocating, when you are in a bad place mentally.

You mean when you were with your family?

Yeah... I let myself be hurt all the time because of their behaviour. I suffered from it. I felt everything so deeply, things that weren't good. I got myself feel tied up by them, my body calling for some space, to let myself breathe. I fought so long. It's not that amazing, I don't know how to protect myself Charles. It is hard for me. I feel everything, because I have no walls built around me.

Tears falling down, warm flushed cheeks and quiet sobbing. Charles stretched his arm to touch you. Leaving his hand on your back.

I should probably be too.

Be what?

Honest.

He reached out now with both of his arms around your body. Resting his head on your shoulder and feeling his heartbeat right next to yours.

Charles

When I was hugging her small figure, I pulled her closer to feel her more. Her particular scent drifted me back to the memory of her tripping on me, feeling her chest on my face, her fragrance in my nose and her smooth skin against my bristle. Her warmness and slender arms on my shoulders making me feel light instead of weighted down. I felt her heartbeat against mine making me blush a little since it was racing fast. Her full breasts making it hard for me to concentrate on what we were talking about earlier since with a little movement from breathing I got to massage them a bit with shrugging against her. I got highly aware of my growing dick in my jeans, trying to rip through. She inhaled my scent having her nose on my body and I rubbed her back a little drifting away from present moment. I imagined how she rocks on me, her tits bouncing up and down of how I take her from beneath her. Her legs are parted and hands on my chest while taking my slick cock to her wet pussy. Again and again and again. I bet she’s incredible, tastes like a honey. She moans loud for me as it’s harder for her to take my girth all in, her eyes talking to me in desperate whines. Feeling her wetness on my balls I squeeze her hips to make sure to leave a mark. She yelps for more and I see her mouth in “o” shape so I go faster to make her come. I’m gonna come as well any second if I will imagine further. All I knew is that I’m gonna fuck her like this. I’m gonna get her. Because I always get what I want no matter what. She will be mine. And only mine. I cannot bear the thought someone else could have her on top, full on display. Whatever the guy was won’t no longer be a problem. I will make sure of that. She is my new obsession. She’ll be my woman.

You pulled back from the hug, the slight touch of your shirt material brushing your nipples made you realise they are hard as a stone. Getting aware of it you got slightly embarrassed, as you were trying to cover it, you only squeezed your arms closer to your body making your tits pop out more. Charles looked down, taking his time watching your deep breathing and bouncing tits. He met your eyes again, feeling the intensity so much you panted. Without you being aware of it, you lightly opened your legs but quickly pulling them together. Squeezing them against each other to relieve the tension in your hot core now. Charles seemed to acknowledge that since he took another look right between your legs. Licking his lips, he stayed there longer than he should, which made you hotter even more. Charles looks back up to your eyes, her green colour darker than before.

*the phone started buzzing*

It was your phone. Swearing immediately you picked up the phone. It was Gabriel. You declined since you’re in a quiet library.

Who was it?

You snapped back to him not knowing suddenly what to tell him. What is wrong with you?

Ehm Gabriel.

He snorted, got up and went somewhere in the dark. You didn’t know what was that about. Or what is happening.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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